


Finding Sophrosyne

by mlfoyskhione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Azkaban, Bisexual Harry Potter, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy-centric, Dreams and Nightmares, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Gay Draco Malfoy, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mystery, POV Draco Malfoy, Plot, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Scars, Secrets, Sectumsempra Scars, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 121,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlfoyskhione/pseuds/mlfoyskhione
Summary: Draco Malfoy had returned for his eighth year at Hogwarts. Things were, of course, not ideal, and everyone pretty much hated him. But that was to be expected.What was not expected, however, was everyone in Hogwarts mysteriously falling under a dangerous sleeping curse. That was, except for Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter.The two soon find out the curse is only one part of a much bigger, and darker plot. Draco and Harry must set aside their differences and work together to save the Wizarding World, and each other.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 126
Kudos: 396





	1. The Miserable Life of One Draco Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic ever, and I'm kind of nervous to write it. But I've had this idea for a fic in my head for a while now and I thought why not give it a try. Hopefully my writing and grammar isn't horrible. I hope you all enjoy this story. Please leave comments and tell me what you think, it would mean a lot!
> 
> I will be updating this pretty often, as I'm currently in quarantine and have nothing better to do, so please stick around and check for regular updates. I'm expecting this story to be about 80k words or longer so it's going to be a WIP for a long time, but I'm determined to finish it as soon as possible!
> 
> Disclaimer: The Wizarding World and characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

Draco Malfoy was stuck. Quite literally.

Stuck in an old, abandoned broom closet that was. On the seventh floor. Where nobody went.

He knew it was a trap from the moment one of the owls dropped a letter in front of him at breakfast that morning. He had eyed the letter suspiciously, and once he came to the conclusion that the letter itself, was in fact, not cursed, had opened it. The letter had read:

_Seventh floor. Broom closet._

And that was all.

Draco was not stupid. He knew someone was messing with him. But, he was curious nonetheless, and had time to spare before his next class. He guessed the letter meant for him to go as soon as possible, so after he finished his breakfast consisting only of tea, and had reassured Pansy that he would meet her in Transfigurations in a couple of minutes, he had set off to the seventh floor.

He had his wand in his hand, (even though he could not cast any spells to harm others- thanks to his probation restrictions), but he could cast a shield protection charm around him if he needed to, at the very least.

When he had come to the only broom closet he knew of on the seventh floor, and had spotted no one around, that had only reassured him it was a trap. So, annoyed with his own overflowing sense of curiosity, and wanting to leave as soon as possible, he had turned himself around and was about to walk away and start his journey towards Transfigurations when he heard a door slam open.

He turned himself back around, only to see what the noise was all about, and had taken one step forward. That one step was all that was needed for the broom closet to literally _pull_ him into the tight, dusty space, with the door slamming to a close as he stumbled into a shelf.

He had heard muffled noises coming from outside the door, filled with lots of laughter and taunts. Such as:

“Malfoy-” laughter- “fucking idiot!”

“I can’t believe he actually showed up!” More laughter.

“Did you see the look on his face!”

Then the noises had died down and Draco was left alone, cursing inwardly at himself.

So here he was now, helplessly banging on the door, hoping that someone would come by and let him out. He had tried countless opening spells on the door, but nothing worked. He didn’t know how the people who had locked him in the closet had secured the door so well. But that didn’t matter now, because he had to get to class. His transfigurations professor would not believe him in the slightest if Draco told him that he had gotten locked in a closet, which was why he was late. Even if his story was believed, his professor wouldn’t care, and Draco would be given detention for tardiness, which meant a one way ticket back to Azkaban.

The thought chilled Draco’s whole body. _I’m_ not _going back to Azkaban. No fucking way. There had to be some way to get out of here. Or somebody had to walk by at some point, right?_ Draco just wished his rescuer would come quick, because he really, really couldn’t be late. On top of that, he had an exam today.

Of course the one day where he got himself trapped is the day of an important exam. _Or, more possibly,_ Draco thought bitterly, _his attackers picked this day specifically to send him that letter, so that Draco would miss his exam._ That was probably the case. His attacker’s probably just wanted him to fail his exam. They didn’t even know that missing or arriving late to a class would result in his deportation to Azkaban. But, that would be an added bonus for them.

Draco banged his head against the door. He really needed to get out of here. He was starting to panic and he could feel the swell of tears against his eyelids. Not that he was going to cry. He wasn’t going to cry.

“Someone! Anyone! Hello, I’m stuck in here!” Draco yelled.

He put his ear to the door, hoping he would maybe hear someone.

Nothing.

_Because no one ever comes up here._

Draco didn’t exactly know what he was expecting to find when he came to this broom closet. People wanting him to suffer, surely. He really was just curious, and he didn’t want to have to spend more time alone with Pansy than was needed. He was grateful for a friend though, for someone who actually chose to spend time with him. But, she got rather annoying and bitchy very fast. Especially when it came to meal times. Pansy was always complaining about how thin Draco was, and how he should eat more. He knew she was right. But Draco never liked to admit he was wrong. So he always just snapped at her when she brought it up, and she snapped back. It was like an endless cycle of snarky and ruthless remarks.

A soft shuffling of feet coming from outside the closet broke Draco out of his thoughts. _Thank Merlin I’m saved._

“Help! I’m stuck in this broom closet!” Draco yelled at the top of his lungs. Though, he made sure he didn’t sound desperate, just wishing for freedom, in an urgent fashion. Yeah.

“Malfoy?” 

Fuck.

Harry bloody Potter.

Of course, it had to be Potter. Draco recognized that voice anywhere.

Of course he would be the one to save the day. Draco should have known that Potter would be the one to eventually free him. It only made sense.

But, even though Draco hated to admit it, he _was_ desperate.

“Yes. Now, get me out of here!” he snapped. 

“Er, okay. Give me a second.”

The door flew open, to reveal an uncomfortable looking Potter. He looked like he always did. Messy, ink black hair. Green eyes that stared directly into your soul. Tired, dark circles under those eyes. The same that Draco had under his eyes. Potter did look nice though. He had grown a lot during the time when the Wizarding World was under siege of the Dark Lord. His shoulders were more broad, and he had gotten even taller. Not as tall as Draco though. _Ha._ But close. Potter also still maintained his slim figure.

“Malfoy. What were you doing in there?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Talking to the shelves. We were having a tea party, you see, with the brooms, right before you interrupted.”

Potter blinked. Draco rolled his eyes. 

“What do you think, Potter? I was trapped. That’s why I yelled, ‘Help! I'm stuck in this broom closet!’ Do you ever think before you speak?”

Draco knew he shouldn’t be saying those rude things. Especially to Savior Boy here. Draco rarely talked as it was, he didn't know why he was breaking his 'no talking to anyone but Pansy' rule he came up with. He also only talked when professors called on him to answer questions. Which was hardly ever. They all either despised him so much that they couldn’t even look at him, or were downright scared of him, which also meant they hardly ever looked at him. But, something about Potter just made Draco so infuriatingly angry, and it was like he had to lash out at him. Also, there was no one else around.

“Okay, I meant how did you get trapped in there? Why didn’t you just _alohomora_ your way out?”

Potter made a pointed gesture to Draco’s wand, which was still clutched tightly in his right hand.

“First of all, none of your business. Second, I _did_. I tried every opening spell I could think of and none worked. I guess somehow someone put a spell on the room to ensure that the person trapped inside couldn’t use magic to get out.”

“Hmmm.” Potter looked skeptical. Like he didn't believe a word Draco was saying.

“Okay, well I’m just going to go to class.” Draco hoped class hadn't started yet. He cast a quick _tempus_ charm, only to see that he had a minute to spare before class started. He would never make it on time. He was on the seventh floor. Transfigurations was far from where he was now.

That’s when Draco realized Potter was in his class. Shouldn’t he already be down there? What was he doing all the way up here? Draco's mouth moved before his brain could even comprehend he was speaking.

“Why aren’t you in class, Potter?”

“None of your business, Malfoy.”

“You should really be in class.”

“I _know._ It’s just Professor Wynn is _so_ bloody annoying. I can’t stand him.” Potter looked seriously ticked off at the moment. 

It made sense, Draco presumed. Their transfigurations professor practically worshipped Potter, and not the normal amount either. Though everyone else in Hogwarts and in the Wizarding World worshipped Potter an unhealthy amount too.

Draco didn't even really know why he was still having a conversation with Potter. Let alone a civil conversation. He should be running down the corridors, trying to get to class.

“So,” Draco spoke, “we should _really_ get to class. I know you hate Wynn, as do I, for a completely different reason, but if you show up late with me, and explain to him that I had a little complication, I won’t get in trouble. He'll listen to anything you say.”

“So you’re using me to get out of trouble.” Potter crossed his arms over his chest, and steadied his hard, unwavering gaze at Draco. Draco felt intimidated by that stare. He always felt like he was nothing, compared to the great Harry Potter, and that stare ensured the thought.

“I didn’t choose to be stuck in a broom closet. Now, _please_ , Potter can we go to class? I can’t get in trouble.”

Potter looked like he was going to say no. Draco wouldn’t blame him. Why would Potter do anything nice for him after Draco treated Potter so horribly for years? Also, Potter probably planned on skipping Transfigurations. If he walked in with Draco he would have to stay and endure Professor Wynn and his swooning.

Much to Draco’s surprise, Potter nodded his head and started to walk in the direction of the Transfigurations classroom. Draco followed him.

“I’m only going to Transfigurations with you so you don’t get sent back to Azkaban. I’m not fighting _that_ battle again.” Potter said without glancing back at Draco.

“Would you shut up?”

“Touched a nerve there, Malfoy?”

Draco fought back the urge to strangle Potter. He was not having this conversation. Sure, Potter had testified on Draco’s behalf at his trial. Potter was the one who had gotten Draco out of a five year sentence to Azkaban. Potter had practically saved his life. Not for the first time. But Draco hated being reminded of the terrible things he had done and their consequences. Especially when they were brought up by Potter. The very definition of all things good and light in the world. 

He set his mouth in a firm, straight line. He wasn’t going to respond back. 

There was no point.

Potter then looked back at Draco, and he seemed confused as to why Draco hadn’t retorted something snarky and rude.

He then shook his head and faced forward again, continuing the walk to transfigurations with Draco following close behind, fingernails digging into his palms.

\---

When they arrived at Transfigurations and Potter opened the door to the classroom, all heads from inside the classroom turned towards them as they walked through the door. Potter walked in casually, a little tense around the shoulders, while Draco slowly inched his way in, head bowed but eyes up.

Professor Wynn looked towards Potter, a wide grin spreading across his face. 

“Harry! Glad you could make it! Come on in, grab a seat!”

Wynn then seemed to notice Draco, and his smile fell. He was one of the professors that utterly hated Draco’s guts. His other professors were scared of him and tried to avoid him as much as possible, while Wynn seemed to go the extra mile to make Draco’s life miserable. Apparently his wife had died at the hands of a Death Eater during the Battle of Hogwarts, so naturally he had to take his grief out on Draco.

Potter seemed to notice Wynn’s hateful expression, and even though it looked like it physically pained Potter to speak up for Draco, he sighed and said, “Professor, Malfoy was stuck in a broom closet, he couldn’t get out. I walked by where he was stuck and heard him, and got him out. It’s not his fault he’s late, don’t punish him for something he had no control over.”

While Potter was talking, the class had erupted into fits of laughter. Apparently it was absolutely _hilarious_ Draco had gotten himself stuck in a broom closet. Draco could feel his cheeks burn and he mentally cursed his pale complexion.

He also mentally cursed Potter. In Draco’s mind’s eye, he was throwing Potter into a pit of venomous snakes, and Draco was standing at the top of the pit, happily watching Potter getting eaten alive. _Okay,_ that might be a little bit too dark, even for him, but the thought did bring a small smile to his face.

Potter _had_ to tell the whole class he was stuck in a closet. He couldn’t have just made up a fake story as to why Draco was late? No. Of course not.

Wynn’s expression looked murderous. Like he wished Draco hadn’t shown up, which was probably what he was thinking. Draco could see Wynn contemplating his response to what Potter had told him, from the harsh lines that appeared on his forehead when he was deep in thought. Wynn wouldn’t disobey Potter’s wishes though.

This was confirmed when Wynn looked directly into Draco’s eyes, and murmured something under his breath before speaking.

“Alright, just take a seat you two. Malfoy, be more aware of your surroundings next time, yeah?” 

Draco let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He looked over at Potter, who had stumbled over to where Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, Thomas, and Finnigan were sitting in the middle of the room. Everyone else in the room was finally quieting down from their fit of laughter.

Draco cast his gaze down, and made his way to the very back of the room where Pansy was sitting. She seemed to be in mid-conversation with Blaise and Theo. 

He didn’t mind Blaise, really. He was an alright bloke. They never really spoke to each other, they seemed to only be around the other when Pansy was there. 

Draco was pretty sure Pansy was down right mad in love with Blaise. Though she would never admit that to Draco. They weren’t in that stage of friendship yet, where they talked about their crushes or feelings.

Not that Draco had a crush. But, even if he did he would never talk about it to Pansy. Though she did know he was gay. She knew ever since Sixth Year, when she had kissed him for the first time, and he visibly recoiled and had said how disgusting the experience was. 

Their relationship before this year was not so much as friendship, but acquaintances. Eighth Year was when they had gotten close. Not a lot of people liked Pansy very much, and everyone absolutely despised Draco. They had every right to despise him too. He was the only Death Eater at Hogwarts. The only Death Eater who wasn’t dead, hiding from the Aurors, or in Azkaban. Draco hated to use that word. _Death Eater._ It made him sick to his stomach every time someone said it. He hated being reminded of what he was. _What he is._ So, Pansy and Draco sought comfort together in their loneliness. Although Pansy still had people who liked her, like Theo and Blaise. 

Draco hated Theo.

Theo was like an annoying, prickly thorn, stuck in his robes, that was always just _there_. That never left. Theo hated Draco too. At least the feeling was mutual. _(As it was for everyone in this God forsaken school)._

Theo had been the first boy he had ever kissed. It was during Sixth Year, at a time when Draco was lost in his darkest thoughts, mind cloudy and in a deep trance.

He had been sitting on one of the armchairs, in the Slytherin common room, in the furthest corner, when Theo approached him cautiously. Draco had snapped at him, and told him to fuck off, but Theo had stayed. He had said he knew something was up with Draco, and told him if he ever needed someone to talk to, he would be there.

He had sat so close to Draco, it was like he’d been _begging_ to be kissed. So that was what Draco did.

No one else had been around in the common room, it’d been late. They kissed for so long, and Draco remembered how good it’d felt. But that kiss was the last time he’d ever kissed someone. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong in every way possible. So, Draco avoided him after that. 

Theo now hated Draco for being a Death Eater. He had openly voiced to him how disgusting and vile Draco was, and how he’d made Slytherin’s reputation even worse than it already was.

So here they were today. 

Pansy still hung out with Theo, even though she knew Draco and him were no where close to being friends, or even friendly to another. It didn’t really bother Draco, he knew she had been friends with Theo for a long time, longer than she and Draco had known each other. Pansy still chose Draco over Theo’s company though most of the time, and that thought made Draco smirk. 

Draco avoided looking in Theo’s direction and sat down next to Pansy on her left side, which was the farthest he could get from Theo. 

She hardly seemed to notice him, even as he started taking out his quill.

“Did I miss the exam?” he whispered to her. Even though he knew he hadn’t, there were no exam sheets out on the tables, and it wasn’t like he’d been super late after all. But, it seemed like the appropriate thing to ask at the moment.

She finally turned to him. She was wearing bright red lipstick and dark eyeshadow. Her short dark hair styled perfectly. She honestly looked like the epitome of a stripper. Not that she _was_ a stripper. But she definitely fit a lot of the requirements.

“No, don’t worry you haven’t. Did you really get yourself stuck in a closet?” She smirked.

“Oh shut _up_.”

Theo laughed.

“Just a question!” She continued to smirk.

She looked like she was about to say something else, but Professor Wynn had started levitating the exam sheets to everyone, so she promptly shut her mouth.

Draco took a deep breath, he had studied for hours for this exam, and he knew the content pretty well. But his grade all depended on what kind of mood Wynn was in.

Draco guessed he would fail.

\--- 

That night Draco sat in the Slytherin common room with his Arithmancy book open on his lap. He was deep into reading the text when he heard someone sit down next to him, loudly chewing away on muggle gum, and sighing over dramatically.

He didn’t have to look up to know it was Pansy. Plus, no one else would sit down next to him.

“Draco.”

He cocked one of his eyebrows up, indicating he was listening, but continued to look down at the book in front of him.

“Get up. We’re going out.”

“No we aren’t.”

“Yes! We are! Stop being such a let down and go have fun for once in your life. All the Eighth Years are going to Hogsmeade tonight. We booked The Three Broomsticks so it will just be us, no strangers.”

Draco’s breath caught in his throat.

_Hogsmeade? The Three Broomsticks?_

That meant seeing Madame Rosmerta. The woman who he _imperiused_. He wasn’t even sure he’d be allowed to step foot into the place. He finally looked up at Pansy.

“You go ahead and have fun with your new friends. I’m not going. That’s that. Besides, I’d have to ask McGonagall if I could leave the grounds of Hogwarts.” 

Pansy seemed to be contemplating what she would say next. She was probably going to sit there and argue with him.

He really didn’t want to have to stand in front of McGonagall and bloody well _ask_ to leave the school. He’d feel childish. 

The Eighth Years were allowed to leave Hogwarts and go down to Hogsmeade whenever they liked, as long as they got back before curfew. He knew they’d gone down a lot and threw parties almost every Thursday, but he never knew where exactly the parties were thrown until now. Pansy never asked him to go with her before today. He’d never said anything about it to her.

Thanks to his probation, he was under the watchful eye of Minerva McGonagall. If he ever wanted to leave Hogwarts to go down to Hogsmeade, he’d have to ask for permission from her, which he was dreadfully scared to do.

He had always been scared of her. She was a powerful woman. He knew she didn’t like him very much, which made sense, he had been a down right pain in the arse during his younger years at Hogwarts. But, he was very grateful she let him return this year to Hogwarts. He could very well be at the manor right now, finishing out his probation there. 

Draco knew he would be a social outcast at Hogwarts, he was expecting it, but he was glad he was away from the manor. That place now haunted his dreams. It was like he could feel the Dark Lord’s presence there, even though he knew that was silly, he was dead. 

However, some part of him always thought, _what if he’s not?_

Pansy’s loud gum smacking noise brought Draco out of his thoughts.

“Did you even hear anything I said?” Pansy questioned with an irritated look on her face.

“If I’m being honest with you, no. I did not.”

“Ugh! I _said_ if the whole McGonagall thing is the reason why you don’t want to go, I’ll ask her for you. _Please_ , Draco, I want you to come.”

“That’s not the main reason I don’t want to go. You know what I did to Rosmerta. I can’t show my face in her pub. I just can’t. Plus, you know everyone would not enjoy my presence there, so really, why did you ask me?”

Pansy looked annoyed, but also pitiful. 

Draco hated being pitied.

“Fine. I’ll guess I’ll have to go and find Blaise and _Theo_.”

Draco rolled his eyes. She always brought up Theo’s name in conversation when she wanted to get a reaction from Draco.

“Yes, go have a marvelous time with the devil himself and his little sidekick. I’ll probably still be up by the time you get back.”

Pansy flipped him off, and then got up and left.

Draco shook his head and went back to reading.

 _Merlin_ , Pansy was something else.

\---

Draco was abruptly awoken by someone shaking his shoulders violently. Someone who smelled like fire whiskey and strong perfume.

“Draco, wake up!”

His eyes shot open, and quickly adjusted to the brightness of the room. 

Pansy was standing in front of him, and she looked plastered. He could tell from the way she was swaying profusely.

He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, while feeling around for his wand on the couch. Once he found it, he cast a quick _tempus_ charm, only to see that the time was thirty minutes until midnight. He was expecting it to be morning. He didn’t usually fall asleep at random intervals during the day, that was more Pansy’s style. 

“I thought you said you would still be up by the time I got back?” She mused.

“I thought you said getting hammered drunk was behind you?”

“Hmmm, Touché.”

Draco smirked. “I’m surprised you even had the decency to wake me. I would have thought you’d have just left me to wake up in the morning covered in blood and bruises or something.”

“I’m not _that_ evil. I woke you up because you really would have been covered in blood if I’d just left you here. Theo and a couple other Eighth Years are coming back any second now. I thought you might have wanted to leave.”

“Right. Thanks.” Draco yawned again before sitting up and collecting his things.

“Night, Pans.”

“Night, Draco,” Pansy said over a yawn. She then proceeded to stumble towards the Slytherin girls dormitories.

“Do you need any help?”

“Nope, I’m fine. Night,” She admonished as she disappeared down the hallway.

Draco, belongings in hand, started towards his own dormitory. He really was tired. But, he knew he should probably take a shower before going to bed. _Hopefully_ , he thought, _by the time I’m done everyone else would be asleep._ It was a nice thought to have, but it would definitely not come true. Plus, they all probably wanted to use the bathroom before going to sleep, so they would have to wait up for Draco to be done.

Draco shared a room with Blaise, Theo, and two other Slytherin’s named Jorah Davis and Calder Robins. They were the only Slytherin boys who had returned as Eighth Years. The girls consisted of Pansy, Daphne Greengrass, Milicent Bulstrode, and Jorah’s twin sister, Tracey. 

Blaise and Davis ignored him most of the time, while Theo and Robins were always taunting him and calling him names, always trying to get under his skin. 

_And that was coming from a person named Calder. I got called names by a person named Calder._

The irony was sometimes too hard to believe.

Though, Draco supposed, his name wasn’t much better. At least his name meant dragon, which was sort of cool.

Draco arrived at his dormitory and opened his door. He walked inside, breathing a deep sigh of relief that there was no one else in the room yet, and set his stuff down on his bed, which was the closest to the window. He then got out his pyjamas.

Draco was glad he got the bed closest to the window, though he supposed it wasn’t exactly a window and more of just glass. He loved to look out of it, and into the depths of the lake. It was very calming, looking at the different creatures that swam by, it cleared his head.

He heard voices coming from outside the door, and he quickly gathered up his pyjamas and wand and rushed to the bathroom that was connected to their room. 

His roommates would probably yell at him for hogging the bathroom, but he honestly didn’t care at the moment. He _could_ leave the bathroom door unlocked, and they could get ready for bed while he used the shower, but he was way too self-conscious for that. It wasn’t like anyone would see him, for there were shower curtains, but the thought that there was always a possibility they could was unpleasant. So, Draco cast several locking charms on the door that could not be easily opened by _alohomora,_ along with a couple silencing charms that went both ways.

He turned to the mirror in the bathroom, looking at his reflection, and immediately frowning. He really hated looking at himself in the mirror. 

He still made sure he looked presentable every day, but it didn’t take him as long to get ready in the morning this year than it had previous years.

He brought his hand up to the right side of his face, on his cheek, and brushed his hand gently over the scar that was there. It traveled from the center of his cheek, all the way down to the middle of his chest. It was from the _sectumsempra_ curse Potter had cast at him during Sixth Year. The effects of that curse, clearly visible on his face. 

He then slowly turned away from the mirror, and started to take off his robes and shirt. He tried his hardest not to look at his left forearm, but it was like his eyes were automatically drawn to it. The Dark Mark was still distinctly apparent on his arm. It had faded slightly, but it was still there. 

Draco hated that Mark with all his being. He hated it so much, he had tried multiple times, to no avail, to remove it. He had tried burning it, cutting it, using magic on it, but nothing worked. 

It would always be there.

Every morning he made sure his cuff links were in place, and that his sleeve would never roll up unexpectedly. Although he was still always paranoid it would. He couldn’t even imagine someone accidentally seeing the Mark. He would probably just _avada kedavra_ himself on the spot. 

He then looked down at his chest and stared at the rest of what the _sectumsempra_ curse had left. It was marred with criss-crossing pink scars, that would always be there, just like the Dark Mark. These scars made him absolutely hate his own body. 

He also hated Potter, of course, for giving him the scars that blemished his skin. But, he supposed he was partially to blame, for he almost cast the _cruciatus_ curse at Potter, and Potter was only defending himself.

Draco finished undressing and hopped in the shower, turning the water on to the hottest temperature.

Once he had finished showering, gotten dressed, and brushed his teeth, he opened the bathroom door only to find an irritated looking Theo and Robins, sitting on Blaise’s bed. Blaise and Davis were apparently in the middle of discussing something related to ancient runes. 

Draco clutched tightly at his wand and made his way to his four poster, not daring to look in the direction of Theo. 

He heard what was probably Robins muttering something to Theo, and then heard the door to the bathroom open and close. 

“So, Draco, I bet your real happy The Chosen One saved you from being stuck in that closet today. You're really lucky to have him as a friend,” Theo spoke casually, as if Draco and him were best mates.

 _So he’s the one who sent the letter this morning._ Draco should have known. 

“He’s not my friend.” Draco knew he should just keep silent, but he was in a rather risk-taking mood today, he’d already had a full on conversation with Potter, of all people.

“Really? I mean, it seemed like you guys were close. He stood up for you to Professor Wynn. He spoke for you at your trial this summer. He got you out of Azkaban. You know who’s in Azkaban right now? My father. You should be there right along with-”

Draco shut his curtains to his four poster. He had already cast a dozen silencing spells on them at the start of the year, so right as the curtains closed, Theo’s voice cut off.

He could feel his hands starting to shake, and he was starting to breathe much faster than usual.

_Calm down, Draco, calm down. Theo’s an idiot. Don’t listen to him._

He tried to reassure himself with those kinds of thoughts, along with staring at a spot on his sheets, which helped with trying to focus his mind, and soon he had stopped panicking and started to relax.

He laid there that night for a long time, trying to fall asleep, but sleep never came.

He kept thinking about the summer before Eighth Year.

He had been in a holding cell, in Azkaban for most of the summer. It had probably been one of the worst experiences of his life, and that said a lot. It was dark, cold, windy, and terrifying there. Although, the dementors no longer guarded the place, which was one upside. Azkaban had felt like one long, endless night. His father had been in the cell next to him, and they had never spoken once to each other. His mother had been stuck at the manor, under the observant eye of the Aurors. Only Marked Death Eater’s had been placed in holding cells, awaiting their trials. Draco’s trial, along with Lucius and Narcissa’s had been around the middle of August, all on the same day. First came Lucius’, who got sentenced to eight years in Azkaban. Draco had expected that outcome, he hadn’t been surprised in the slightest, and yet the sight of his father being pulled out of the room by the Aurors, face set in an unreadable expression, and his mother silently crying, made him almost start weeping. He didn’t, though. 

His mother went next, and she had been sentenced to a year and a half of house arrest and five months of community service when she was allowed to step foot outside the manor’s grounds. Potter had shown up then, and had given testimony on his mother’s behalf. He had told the Wizengamot that Narcissa had lied directly to the Dark Lord. Apparently, when she was asked if Potter had been alive after the Dark Lord tried to kill him, his mother had said Potter was in fact dead, when he _was_ very much alive. That story surprised Draco, and after the trials were over, Narcissa had told him she had lied for _Draco_. For him. 

Draco had hugged his mother so tight after that, he thought he would never let go.

When it was Draco’s turn to stand in front of the Wizengamot, Potter had spoken on his behalf. 

He honestly couldn’t recount what Potter had exactly said, he’d been too preoccupied thinking of the fact that his mother was safe, that Potter was there, that Draco probably wouldn’t be going back to Azkaban, _because Potter was there. Speaking in favor of him. Potter._

He’d been told he was on probation for two years, with a possibility for revaluation for a shorter time period if he abided by his probation requirements.

That night, in his room at the manor, he had begun to write a letter to McGonagall, asking if he could attend Hogwarts to redo his Seventh Year, if he got the okay from his probation Auror. She had messaged back the next day, saying that it was absolutely alright, and that she was glad to have him back. 

Within that week, all the details of the Malfoy family trials had been out for the public to see, in the _Daily Prophet_ . Draco had been mortified. _Now the whole Wizarding World would know of my status in the war,_ he had thought. He had hoped his whole, _‘I worked for the Dark Lord’_ thing would be kept under wraps. But no. He knew that a lot of people already strongly suspected, since he’d been highly favored by the Carrows and other Death Eaters during Seventh Year, but then it had really officially been out there for _literally everyone_ to read about and know the truth. There was no more hiding it. He’d be recognized everywhere he went for the rest of his life. 

He would be judged for his past mistakes for the rest of his life. Would never be given the chance to show he had changed.

It was that thought, that made Draco the most heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter was boring, but I felt the need to develop Draco's relationships and back story and stuff. More drarry will happen in the next chapter and all the chapters after that! I also wanted to show how normal Hogwarts life was for Draco, compared to how it's going to be in the next couple of days when the plot thickens. I promise it will get more interesting very soon!
> 
> Please tell me what you thought of the first chapter, since this is my first time writing a fic I want to know if I'm doing anything horribly wrong haha.


	2. The Thing I Hate Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potions & Therapy Sessions.

Draco hated many things. He had even mentally made a list of all those things.

The bare minimum of that list consisted of:

1) The Dark Lord, (most obviously).

2) Himself.

3) His left arm.

4) The scars on his face and chest.

5) His father. (Though that one was quite complicated).

6) His professors.

7) Theodore Nott.

8) Literally every single person on the planet. (Except his mother, of course).

9) Fridays.

Lastly, the thing he hated _most_ , above all others, was Alec Kaspian. 

Okay. That was a lie. He probably hated the Dark Lord the most, but he really did hate Alec.

Also Friday’s. Friday’s were dreadful.

Today was a Friday.

Now, combine Fridays and Kaspian and you have _the worst possible combination ever._

_Ever._

On Fridays, Draco had a group therapy session with the other Eighth Years. It was put together by McGonagall. She had said that, _‘We all needed to heal together’_ or some shit. Draco respected McGonagall, he really did, but he thought that idea was the worst idea she had ever come up with. That anyone could come up with.

So here Draco was, sulking over the fact that he had to go to group therapy today with Kaspian. He also had Potions and D.A.D.A. today with the bloke.

“Draco, you need to eat breakfast. Seriously,” Pansy advised from the seat across from him in the the Great Hall.

He didn’t want to tell her that the main reason he didn’t feel like eating today was because his mind kept thinking about how awful the day ahead of him would be. It was like he didn’t have time to eat; his brain didn’t have the mental capability to worry _and_ eat at the same time.

He knew that wasn’t really true, but he told himself that anyway. 

Besides, he did eat. He ate dinner. He also occasionally slipped into the kitchen to grab a snack when he was hungry. He did take care of himself, _thankyouverymuch._

He sipped on his tea and shook his head at Pansy, hoping she would drop the subject.

She sighed and went back to reading her issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

His eyes scanned around the room, he observed how happy everyone was, smiling and laughing with their friends. It was like no war had taken place there at all. During the summer, Draco knew that a huge team of wizards had come to help return Hogwarts back to its former glory. They had done an excellent job. It looked like it had always looked before. However, the feeling was just wrong. Like something had been sucked out of the atmosphere. He hoped he wasn’t the only one who felt that feeling. He couldn’t tell if he was the only one, since everyone seemed to be content with their lives by the look of light on their faces. 

Then there was Potter.

Draco’s eyes always somehow landed on Potter. He guessed old habits die hard.

Potter, sitting on the other side of the room from where Draco sat at the Slytherin table, looking lost in thought. His messy black hair falling into his eyes. Completely not listening to what Weasley and Granger were saying to him at the moment.

From what Draco could tell from Potter’s expression, he could feel the emptiness that loomed all around them too. He guessed it made sense, Potter had lost the most out of everyone at Hogwarts. Draco supposed Potter carried the weight of all the deaths on his back.

He might be wrong, he could totally be misinterpreting Potter’s expressions, but something in the back of his mind told him he was right, that Potter was suffering.

Draco thought it was sort of stupid, Potter feeling guilty for all the deaths that happened. It was honestly more Draco’s fault than his. Draco had fought on the wrong side, while Potter was the literal embodiment of the right side. He had saved the Wizarding World in the end.

Weasley nudged Potter’s shoulder, and that seemed to shake him out of his trance. Potter turned to Weasley, and said something to him that was apparently hilarious, because Weasley burst out laughing.

Maybe Draco had been wrong, maybe Potter didn’t feel what Draco thought he felt. Maybe.

Just then, Alec Kaspian strode up to the Gryffindor table, where Potter sat. Kaspian sat down directly across from Potter, blocking Draco’s view of his face. Draco frowned. 

Alec Kaspian was a confusing bloke. He was brainless and malevolent, yet charming and attractive. Though the brainless and malevolent part far out-weighted the other part. He was usually seen around Potter, they had evidently become close friends this year. But, Draco was skeptical that Potter actually liked Kaspian.

Kaspian was probably the most fake person Draco had the displeasure of meeting. He would smile and make polite conversations with every professor, winning them over with his charming grin. But when there weren’t any adults around he was vicious and nasty, and he got away with it every time. The most infuriating part was that the trio didn’t seem to _care_. Well, they never said anything to him about his ill-mannered mouth. Draco really did have a hard time believing they actually enjoyed Kaspian’s company, but they always let him hang around, which annoyed Draco to no end.

In the back of Draco’s mind, he knew he had been just like Kaspian in his younger years. Maybe that was why he hated him so much, because he reminded Draco of his past self, someone who he was trying to let go of. Draco was still sarcastic and rude, that was just his personality, but he wasn’t prejudiced toward muggleborns anymore. Well, he still thought purebloods were better than everyone else, but he was working hard on his way to becoming more accepting of those who didn’t share his blood type. It was hard to unlearn something you’d been taught for so many years. 

Kaspian was also a very, very suspicious character. Like, he would be seen by himself in the middle of the corridor at a weird time of day. Draco knew this because he usually saw Kaspian when he would come out of the library, or out of the kitchen, and would just wander the halls for the sake of nothing else to do. But he supposed it was probably nothing. Kaspian was probably plagued with thoughts of the war just like everyone else, and needed some alone time to process everything.

A swarm of owls swooped in through the doors, carrying parasols, newspapers, and letters. A great big grey owl flew right in front of Draco and dropped off a caramel colored letter, with the Malfoy family crest on the front. For a split second he thought it might’ve been another prank letter.

“Ooh, let me see!” Pansy exclaimed, looking at the letter that was now in Draco’s hand.

“Uh, no. This is addressed to me, not you.”

Pansy glowered, but didn’t push. “Fine, then who’s it from?”

“It's from my mother, I’m guessing, from the crest on the front. My father obviously wouldn’t be writing to me from Azkaban.”

Draco ripped open the letter, only to see a neatly printed paragraph that could only be in his mother’s hand writing. This was the second time Narcissa had written to him since school started. Once before Christmas break, and now, in the middle of January. He began to read it.

_Dear Draco,_

_I hope you are doing well. I miss you so much._

_I am doing fine myself. I’ve been working on cleansing the Manor of dark magic, and have so far made good progress._

_That is actually why I am writing to you, to talk about the Manor. I have decided that when I am off house arrest, I am going to sell the Manor and move somewhere else. I know it is not home to you anymore, after everything that happened, nor is it to me. I thought it would be nice to have a fresh start somewhere different. I don’t know where we would move yet, but I have a couple places in mind._

_However, I wanted to consult you first about this idea. If you think we should keep the Manor, then I will gladly carry on living there._

_Please write back as soon as possible._

_With love,_

_Narcissa Malfoy._

Draco looked up from the letter. Pansy was looking expectedly at him, with wide eyes. He honestly didn’t know what to think. Yes, he hated the Manor now, but it was his childhood home. The thought of giving it up was weird. He supposed he would think it over some other time. He had other things to worry about right now. Like the fact that breakfast was almost over and it was time to go to Potions. 

“What did it say?” Pansy asked.

“Nothing.”

\---

Draco sat in Potions with his head down on the table. He was so tired, he had barely gotten any sleep the night before.

Theo sat closest to him on his right, though at a separate table, and was looking utterly bored. He could relate. 

All the Slytherins in the class sat closest to Slughorn's desk, it wasn’t like Draco chose the spot, but he supposed it was better than sitting with any of the other houses. He didn’t have any friends in the class. That meant Pansy wasn’t in NEWT Potions.

Slughorn was droning on and on about the potion they were going to be creating today. It was called the Bloodroot Potion, and was apparently very poisonous. Draco didn’t know why they were brewing something so dangerous, let alone brewing it for their NEWTs. 

“Now remember class, this potion is very lethal. One splash on your skin and you’ll be obliterated from existence.” 

The whole class openly gaped at him. 

He went on, “That is, if you brew it correctly.”

“Sir,” Granger spoke, “how do you know if you brewed it correctly if you aren’t allowed to test it on an actual person?”

“Excellent question, Miss Granger. At the end of class, we will add a hint of Bundimun Secretion to your potions, and if your mixture turns a dark purple, you will know you have made it right. Now, any more questions?” No one moved or said anything. They all look too frightened. “Alright then, pair up. No more than groups of two. Once you have your partner, come and collect your ingredients and dragonhide gloves.”

Draco was about to get up and grab his ingredients when the door to the room slammed open, revealing Potter. Draco was surprised he hadn’t noticed Potter's absence sooner. 

Slughorn’s face lit up at the sight of him.

“Harry! So glad you could join us. Pick a partner and have them explain to you what you missed.”

“Sir, is it okay if I joined Ron and Hermione?” Potter asked as he walked farther into the room.

“I’m sorry, Harry. But this potion is far too dangerous to have more than a group of two people working on it.”

“Oh.” Potter looked surprised that Slughorn didn’t just agree with him and let him work with his two best friends.

“I’m sure there’s someone else who still needs a partner,” Slughorn sympathized.

“Professor Slughorn, sir, Malfoy doesn’t have a partner.”

Draco shifted his eyes to look at who just spoke.

_Alec Kaspian. Of. Fucking. Course._

Draco had been perfectly content with just working by himself, like he did every time they had to work in partners in potions. Slughorn never seemed to care or notice.

Kaspian seemed to be paired up with a girl who was in Ravenclaw. Draco was surprised he didn’t wait up for Potter to show so he could be partners with him.

Kaspian probably thought it was a hilarious joke, The Savior being paired up with the Death Eater.

Potter didn’t look amused. 

_This_ was what irked Draco. The fact that Potter still hung around him even after he did stuff like call out how Draco didn’t have a partner so he’d purposely be paired up with Potter.

Everyone in the room had turned to look at Draco, who was sitting by himself at an empty table. He felt really small and pathetic at the moment. 

“Oh, uh, yes of course. Harry, go join Malfoy.” Slughorn seemed to be avoiding Draco’s eyes.

Kaspian was giggling profusely with the girl next to him.

Potter turned to face Draco, and made his way towards him.

Okay. It would be fine. Perfectly fine. It was just one Potions class, how bad could it really be?

\---

It was not fine.

Potter was an idiot. He didn’t know a single thing about Potions.

Draco really did wonder how Potter had done so well during Sixth Year. 

Draco was basically making the Bloodroot Potion all by himself, while Potter just passed him the ingredients. He only spoke when he asked Potter to hand him something.

“Give me the knotgrass.”

“ _Please?_ ”

Draco rotated to face Potter. “What did you say?”

“I said ‘ _please’_? You said, ‘Give me the knotgrass.’ You didn’t ask very nicely.”

Draco stared at Potter. He honestly didn’t know what to say to him. 

He was working with a certified moron.

“Oh for- bloody hell, I’ll just grab it myself.” Draco reached across their workspace and grabbed the knotgrass, along with a couple of lacewing flies. 

Draco was just about to measure out the right amount of knotgrass that needed to be added, when Potter moved back his right elbow a little bit too much, resulting in him knocking off the jar of fluxweed from the table. There was a loud crash, and everybody in the room turned to face them. Draco felt a flush creep across his cheeks, and he guessed the scar on his face appeared bright red.

“Everything alright over there?” Slughorn called out from behind his desk. He seemed to only be addressing Potter.

“Yes. Sorry, I accidentally knocked something over. I can clean it up though,” Potter said as he took out his wand. He cast a spell under his breath that Draco couldn’t make out, and the mess on the floor vanished.

After a couple of hushed whispers and staring, Slughorn and every other student went back to worrying about their own potions. That was, except for Kaspian, who strode over to Draco’s table.

When he approached, he rested his arm on Potter’s shoulder, and sighed deeply.

“I think we both know what really happened.” 

Potter took a step away from Kaspian, and his arm dropped back to his side.

“What are you talking about?” Potter asked.

Draco tried not to focus on Kaspian, and instead busied himself with finishing measuring and pouring the knotgrass in the potion. He could already sense that this conversation was going to take a wrong turn.

“You were just saving Malfoy’s arse, once again. Malfoy was definitely the one who knocked over that jar, and you were just covering for him. You knew he would get yelled at by Slughorn if you told him the truth.”

“No, I really did knock it over.” Potter’s voice sounded stiff and guarded.

“Okay, sure, yeah.”

“Why do you care so much, Alec?”

Draco was astonished that Potter was actually talking back to Kaspian. 

“You two seem pretty close nowadays,” Kaspian observed.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

 _So the people in Potter’s life also comment profusely on this subject too_ , Draco thought. 

“Maybe, you came in late today, just so you could work with _Draco_ over here-” Kaspian emphasized ‘Draco’ very noticeably- “because you knew he wouldn’t have a partner and everyone else would, so you would get to work with him.”

“Are you even hearing yourself speak right now? That doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t even know we were going to be working in pairs today.”

“Right. Sure.”

“Alec, are you jealous?”

Kaspian didn’t respond. Busted. Draco suppressed a snicker.

Potter went on, “You could have just waited for me to show up. I would’ve been your partner if you’d have just asked.” His voice was soft now, and sounded very understanding.

“How was I supposed to know you were going to show up? You sometimes decide to come to class, and sometimes don’t. I can’t keep up with you anymore.” 

Draco looked up from the cauldron where he had been stirring the knotgrass very intently, and saw that Kaspian had gone back to his own table.

Potter sighed and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses.

Draco knew he really shouldn’t say anything, but he wanted to know Potter’s answer.

“So, what was that all about?”

Potter focused on Draco and blinked. 

“I’m sorry about Alec. He was just being a git.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“I don’t even know why people keep saying _we’re_ -” Potter gestured vaguely at the space between him and Draco- “friends. I helped you escape from a broom closet yesterday and now apparently everyone and their mum thinks we’re best mates. Not including yesterday, we haven’t even talked to each other since your trial this summer!”

Draco was stuck on the fact that out of everything that just conversed between Potter and Kaspian, Potter was apparently thinking about how Kaspian said he and Potter were, ‘pretty close nowadays.’ Draco didn’t respond back with anything related to what Potter had just said. Now was probably the only chance he would get to ask the question he always wanted to ask.

“Why do you still hang out with him? I notice that you don’t enjoy his company nearly as much as he enjoys yours.”

Potter regarded Draco, and he looked like he was trying to come up with a valid answer, but was struggling with how to word it. After what felt like a whole bloody hour, but in reality was only like ten seconds, Potter finally responded.

“Alec’s family was close friends with Remus Lupin. I’m sure you remember him.”

Draco did indeed remember Lupin. How could he forget? The man was only brought up to him and his family about a thousand times by the Dark Lord and other Death Eaters, always being reminded that they were now related to a werewolf, thanks to Tonks, and that the Malfoy bloodline had been tainted. He also knew Lupin had died during the Battle of Hogwarts, along with Tonks. Their names had been in the newspapers for a while, in the many columns of the fallen hero's of the war.

Potter went on without a response from Draco. “So, I sort of feel, I don’t know, obligated to be friends with him. Like being his friend and hanging around him is going to fill the hole in my heart that was left there by Remus’s death. Alec has so many stories about him that I love to listen to, and I feel like if I just stop being friends with him, I won’t ever get to hear anymore stories, and it will be like I’m disgracing Remus’s memory. I don’t know, my reasoning doesn’t make much sense, and it sounds stupid. Also, before you say anything else, I _know_ he’s rude to everyone, especially the Slytherins. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he won’t listen. So, on his behalf, I apologize.”

Draco honestly didn’t know what to say. He had not expected that the reason behind Potter’s friendship with Kaspian was based on something so deep and personal. He also didn’t expect Potter to apologize _for_ Kaspian. Draco thought the best apology would be for Potter to just end his supposed friendship with him right then and there, but he couldn’t have everything. 

Potter didn’t look like he was waiting for a response though. He glanced down at the instructions that were laid out between them, and then grabbed a handful of dragon scales, setting it down in front of the cauldron. Draco raised an eyebrow. 

“What’s this, you actually being helpful now?”

Potter scoffed and went back to peering down at the instructions.

\---

Okay. Maybe Draco had been a little too quick to judge Potter’s skills after all. He was still absolute shit at Potions, but he could read, which was all the skill that Draco really required in a partner. They didn’t talk at all after their little conversation regarding Kaspian, and Draco was fine with that. He really didn’t like to talk to people other than Pansy, though Potter seemed to bring out a weird side of him. It was like he wanted to start up a conversation with Potter, but he was almost too scared to.

He was, after all, Draco Malfoy. 

Potter was, after all, Harry Potter.

They would never match. Draco would have to accept that. He sort of already did, but a small, small part of him whispered in the back of his mind, “you could be friends, if you just tried.” He knew that would never be true, but that little part of him did hope.

Slughorn was walking around the classroom, adding the tiniest hint of Bundimun Secretion to everyone’s potions. From the look on Slughorn’s face and his very grandiose praising, Draco knew Granger and Weasley had made an excellent brew, along with Kaspian and his partner, and Theo and Blaise. 

When Slughorn came around to Draco’s table, he very pointedly did not look in Draco’s direction at all. Draco rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like Slughorn would see, so.

He added in a drop of Bundimun Secretion to his and Potter’s yellowish looking and foul smelling potion, and much to Draco’s relief, it turned purple. He and Potter had made it correctly.

Potter started to grin very wide, and Draco thought for a brief moment, _he has a nice smile._

“Excellent work, Harry! Ten points to Gryffindor.” Slughorn admonished. 

“Er-” Potter started, then stopped, and said, “Thanks.”

Unbelievable.

When class officially ended, Draco rushed out as fast as he could. Potter had tried to say something to him, but Draco didn’t want to hear it. He knew he couldn’t avoid Potter’s apologies or whatever he felt the need to say to Draco forever, they had DADA. next together, where Potter would inevitably carry out his quest to try to speak to Draco. Luckily, Pansy was in that class, so it would be much harder to get Draco alone to talk to him. Though, Draco supposed Potter didn’t need to speak to him alone, and would probably stalk right up to where Pansy and him sat and say what he wanted to say. 

Draco knew he wouldn’t get out of not speaking to Potter. Well, Draco didn’t have to speak, but he had to listen. 

Draco was still making his way towards the Defense classroom when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. His _left_ wrist. Draco felt a chill travel up his spine, and then he stopped in his tracks, hoping he wasn’t going to look into the eyes of the person he wanted to see least of all right now. 

Of course, the universe hated him, and it inevitably was the person he wanted to see least of all. Draco looked down at the hand that was still clutching his wrist, and immediately tensed. He tried tugging away, but Potter’s grip was firm. He wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Malfoy, look, I’m sorry. That was a real dick move back there.” Potter said. 

“You think?” Draco said through gritted teeth. He tried pulling away once more, but he couldn’t. _Merlin_ , was Potter that thick? Could he not tell he was causing Draco unbearable amounts of distress? He _had_ to grab onto his left wrist, hadn’t he?

“I don’t know why I didn’t say anything to Slughorn. I really am sorry.”

“Alright, fine. Go back to Slughorn and tell him I basically did all the work. Then I’ll forgive you.” 

Potter shifted on his feet a bit, but didn’t say anything. He looked very uncomfortable and out of place. Instead, he raked his hand, the one that wasn’t still latched onto Draco’s wrist, through his already messy hair. 

“Right, then,” Draco muttered, and tried yanking his arm away, one last time. To his surprise it worked. He turned back around, and started walking away from Potter when he felt a hand wrap around the same wrist, once again.

“Malfoy-”

“Don’t touch me!” Draco finally snapped. “Get your hand off of me!” He was fuming now. He noticed his hands were starting to shake, and his breath was coming up short.

He immediately regretted shouting in the middle of the halls, where there were loads of people strolling about. From his peripheral vision, he thought he saw everyone turn to face him and Potter. He was still looking at Potter, he wasn’t brave enough to turn his head and stare into the faces of numerous accusing eyes. Potter glanced down at where he was still touching Draco, and let go, almost as if he had realized he was holding fire, and it had been burning him, only to notice it too late.

“Shit. God- I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“Just leave me alone, and don’t talk to me again.”

Draco promptly fled from the scene, moving past the dozens of students who had stopped to watch his and Potter’s altercation. As he moved through the halls, he subconsciously kept tugging at the sleeve that covered his left arm, pulling his robe sleeve down way farther than it needed to be. He kept feeling for his cufflinks that were clasped to his dress shirt that he wore under his robes, making sure they were secure. He knew he was being paranoid, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that a person- Harry Potter for that matter- actually touched his left arm. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He arrived at Defense in a haze, it hadn’t even seemed like he walked the rest of the way down the corridors, it was like his feet had just carried him, while his mind had wandered. He noticed that Pansy had already taken a seat in their usual spot, in the back of the class, and he went over to join her.

Her attention focused on him as he took his spot next to her.

“You look severely shaken up. What happened? Who do I have to kill?” She sounded like she wasn’t kidding.

“Nothing. It was nothing. Nothing happened, and I’m not shaken up. This is just my normal look.” He tried to sound casual, but he knew his voice did sound a bit shaky.

“Sure. Now spill.”

He hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about how Potter had given him no credit for their potions work, and then had basically touched his Dark Mark. Also, now that his mind had slowed down and he could think clearly again, the whole Potter situation was stupid. He didn’t really care that much about a silly assignment. It wasn’t like he would have gotten much more attention and praise for his work if he’d had worked alone. 

“Sorry, Pans, I just don’t really feel like talking about it.”

She huffed, crossed her arms over her chest and said defensively, “You _never_ feel like talking about things.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The rest of class went by in a blur. They had worked on Orchideous spells, which allowed the caster to conjure flowers. Draco had been paired up with Pansy to practice them. He hadn’t paid much attention, he’d been preoccupied watching Potter laugh and joke around with Kaspian. It was like their whole head-to-head confrontation hadn’t even happened, and they were best mates again. He had tried to reign in his focus, but his eyes were drawn to Potter. Pansy had snapped her fingers in his face several times and had scolded him saying, “Stop drooling over Potter’s arse and focus your attention on _me_!” To which Draco had instantaneously flushed and told her to shush or people might overhear and get the wrong idea. Draco had been looking at Potter because he was angry at him, and rightfully so. He most certainly wasn’t looking at his arse. What the fuck Pansy?

Draco walked back to the Slytherin common room with Pansy by his side, who was chattering on and on about different kinds of spell work. He pretended he was paying attention, and nodded his head enthusiastically when she turned to look at him when she stopped talking to take a breath. 

They arrived at the Slytherin common room and flopped down on one of the couches. Draco took out his homework for potions and started to work on it while Pansy took out a magazine and flipped through the pages, only stopping to look at the fit models. He really did wonder why Pansy still hung out with him, when she could choose to spend her time with Theo, or Blaise who she so desperately loved, and yet she chose his company to theirs. The thought made his insides all warm. Even though she was annoying most of the time, and got on his nerves frequently, he was glad they were friends.

Ten minutes to eight o’clock, they stopped what they were doing, and looked at each other miserably. It was time to go to group therapy with the other Eighth Years. He knew Pansy hated therapy too, but not as much as Draco did. They slowly packed up their things and headed out of the common room in silence.

When they both arrived at the classroom that was converted into their therapy space, they each took a deep breath and proceeded into the room. The room was spacious, wide enough to hold about fifty kids, and smelled like chalk and old books. It wasn’t decorated at all, and had no furniture in it, except for a colorful rug and around twenty chairs. There were maybe around forty Eighth Years in total, but therapy sessions were split into two groups. Draco, lucky for him, got stuck with the group that had Potter, Kaspian, Granger, and Theo in it. He didn’t have anything against Granger, it was just that every time he looked at her his stomach did a weird flip-thing that he knew was guilt. Guilt that he once called her foul names and guilt that she was tortured in his own house. 

Pansy and Draco sat down next to each other, and Draco clenched his hands in his lap. It was going to be fine. He just had to give simple one word answers when they were asked of him and soon the session would be over before he knew it. 

The seats gradually filled in, and Draco got stuck sitting next to a girl named Caitlin who was in Hufflepuff, and was extremely perky. He scooted closer to Pansy.

“Why hello everyone!” Came a voice from the door. Everyone shifted around in their seats to look at Elizabeth, who was their group therapist. She was tall and slim, and very pretty. “I trust everyone had a good week?” Several students nodded their heads, Draco did not. 

Elizabeth took a seat in the only empty chair that was left, right in between Potter and Hannah Abbott. She took a glance around at everyone in the room, and when her eyes met Draco’s he immediately looked down. She already knew he despised being there, and that was okay. 

“So, let’s go around and share one good thing that happened this week, and one not so good thing,” She said.

Draco instantly suppressed his urge to dramatically roll his eyes. They started every Friday off like this, and it was honestly getting very annoying. Granger volunteered to go first, and she talked about how she was getting farther in her plans for making S.P.E.W. seen and sponsored by the ministry. Her not so great thing from the week was that she got stuck completing her boyfriend's homework every night. 

After Granger, they went around in a circle, which meant Potter got to go last. Draco truly never envied Potter as much as he did that moment. When it eventually got to Draco, he totally blanked on what to say. He didn’t have a good thing that happened to him. Even if he did, he most certainly couldn’t think of one. It was like all the awful events that occurred were flooding his brain and making it impossible to think of anything else but dreadful memories. He thought about his mother, and how she planned on selling the Manor, which led him to think of the Dark Lord, which led him to think of Potter, his hand on Draco’s wrist. Draco took a glimpse at Potter, who was staring at him with his terribly bright green eyes, waiting intently for him to answer the most simple question. 

Draco shook his head and bit down hard on his bottom lip. 

He couldn’t answer the question, he just couldn’t. 

Elizabeth seemed to understand, and nodded her head, asking Pansy to continue on.

“Um, that isn’t fair. Malfoy has to answer the question just like the rest of us,” Kaspian said, sitting opposite from Draco and looking severely ticked off. 

“Please call him Draco, Alec. And it’s okay, he gets a pass today.” She smiled at him, a real genuine smile, and Draco thought he could hug her right now. 

“But-”

“Alec, it’s not your turn. Please go on, Pansy.”

Pansy shared her answer with about as much enthusiasm as a rock, and then soon enough it was Potter’s turn. 

Potter contemplated what he was going to say, and eventually came up with the world’s most boring answer. “I had a very good breakfast today with lots of treacle tart. My bad thing is I ate too much of it.” That earned him lots of snickers. Not the accusing kind, the kind that Draco would’ve got if he’d voiced that answer, but the friendly, kind-hearted laughs. 

Elizabeth laughed too. “Yes, very good, Harry. Now, to start off our session today, I would like to talk about guilt. Who here has ever felt guilty?”

Obviously, everyone in their life has felt guilt. It was a silly thing to ask, and much _not_ to Draco’s surprise, everyone raised their hand. Even Pansy. Draco slowly raised his hand too, because he would’ve been singled out if he hadn’t participated.

Elizabeth then voiced Draco’s thoughts, and for a moment he believed she used Legilimency on him. “I know it’s a silly question. Of course everyone has felt guilt. Especially after the events you all have experienced in the war. I’m here to tell you, it’s okay. It’s normal to feel guilt, like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.” 

Draco noticed that Potter shifted a little in his seat, and was fidgeting ever so slightly. 

“This brings us onto our next topic of discussion. Survivor’s guilt.” There was a collective intake of breaths from the circle of chairs. “You all survived. You are all here. Everyone thinks they could’ve done things differently if given the chance, but no one can change the past. Not even in a world full of magic.” 

Draco didn’t know how group therapy sessions benefit him at all. He should’ve gotten a pass on the whole thing at the beginning of the year when it started. It was not like he would ever willingly speak up to share his feelings. His classmates would probably shoot him daggers with their eyes if he did. He knew they thought he shouldn’t get to feel remorse when there were others more deserving of it. Draco honestly agreed with them.

The topics talked about in sessions were also non-beneficial to him. They were topics that only the “good” side could relate to. None of them had ever done terrible, terrible deeds. Well, except Pansy, who apparently wanted to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord to save her own skin. But that wasn’t even nearly as bad as the things Draco had done.

Elizabeth continued on, “Have any of you heard of the word sophrosyne?” No one made any acknowledgement that they knew the word. “It means ‘A healthy state of mind, characterized by self-control, moderation, and a deep awareness of one’s true self, resulting in true happiness.’ You can’t reach sophrosyne until you let go of the past. You need to move forward, and not dwell on the past.” 

Draco saw a couple of heads nodding along to what Elizabeth was saying. He didn’t know what to think of her words. Sophrosyne sounded fake. It probably was. It was likely Elizabeth had just made up that word. Draco would know, he was good with words. He spent a lot of time reading challenging passages when he was younger, broadening his mind to new and complex words, and he’d never heard of sophrosyne. It was a nice thing to think about, though. Finding inner peace and one’s true self. 

That would never happen to Draco.

The rest of the session his classmates took turns sharing why they felt guilty, and they all undertook the job of telling each other why it was okay to feel that way. Elizabeth looked content sitting in her chair, watching everyone say kind words to each other. Almost everyone, that was. Draco did not participate, and neither did Potter. They both kept their mouths shut the entire time. Even Pansy said something, when Theo talked about his mother, she offered comforting words to him. 

“Alright everyone, I hope you have a fantastic week! See you next Friday, same time, same place,” Elizabeth announced at the end of their hour. 

Draco sprung up from his seat, along with everyone else in the room, and was about to grab his bag from beside his chair when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, and spun around to find Elizabeth standing there. 

“Sorry, Draco, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought we could maybe have a little chat,” She spoke over the loud noises of people talking and chairs skidding across the floor.

“Uh, thanks, but no thanks. I have to work on homework.” He knew that she could see right through the lie, it was a Friday night, he had the whole weekend to work on homework. But, she didn’t comment on it, instead she offered a good night to him and grabbed her own bag, leaving the room behind two Ravenclaws. 

“Okay, it wasn’t _that_ bad today, you have to admit,” Pansy said as she moved in front of him.

“Agree to disagree.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic all the time.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, I was going to go to the library to pick out a few books, come with?” Draco asked.

“No thanks. I’ll leave you and your nerdiness alone. Meet you back in the common room. Bye, love.” She patted him on the shoulder and left the room. 

Draco noticed he was the only one left. All the chairs were still arranged in a circle, and he observed that someone had accidentally left a quill on the ground. He started to walk towards it, and was about to pick it up and stuff it in his bag, because he could use an extra quill, when he heard a noise coming from directly outside the door. His head immediately shot up, and his arm was still extended towards the quill, when the noise came again. He recognized it as a faint drum of laughter. Without hesitation, his hand came to grasp his wand, which was in his trouser pocket, and he pulled it out, brandishing it in front of him. 

A group of people stepped into the room. About six students. He recognized Zacharias Smith, who was leading the group, Theo, Calder Robins, and Justin Finch-Fletchley who were standing directly behind Smith, and towards the back of the group was a girl in Ravenclaw named Mandy Brocklehurst, and of course, Alec Kaspian. 

Draco tensed and stood motionless, afraid that one movement would result in something very bad. 

The group walked farther into the room, and they were obviously here to mess with Draco, because all twelve eyes were dead set on him, and nothing else.

Draco closed his eyes, and wished that when he opened them, they would be gone, that it would all be just a hallucination. When he opened them, however, they were all still there, and looked absolutely out for blood.

Fridays, huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully Alec isn't too annoying for an OC. But he's an integral part of the story I promise. 
> 
> I'll be posting the next chapter sometime next week, so stay tuned! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and be prepared for the next chapter because Draco's in for a rough time. 
> 
> (Spoiler, but not really: Next chapter is the last chapter of normalcy before everyone falls under the sleeping curse)


	3. Unwanted Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something unexpected happens to Draco... something he thought he'd never have to deal with again.

When Draco was a child, his father would tell him, “Always be brave. Always stand up for yourself. Look your opponent in the eye, and show them _you_ are in control of the situation. Show them you are a Malfoy.”

Draco had taken that lesson to heart. It’s what made him seem powerful to his acquaintances. It’s what got him friends. He liked to think he was brave when he was younger. He knew however, he had shown weakness _countless_ times, and had disappointed his father’s wishes. 

He also knew Lucius had disobeyed his own rule. Draco had been witness innumerable times to Lucius bowing his head to the Dark Lord, not meeting his master’s eyes; to Lucius very obviously not being in control of the situation that was set in front of him.

In Draco’s youth, he had always believed Lucius would never break his own rule. He was the one who came up with it. But when he actually saw with his own eyes his father withering under the Dark Lord’s stare, Draco wasn’t the least bit surprised seeing Lucius infringe upon the guideline. It honestly, (and Draco felt awful for thinking this), made Draco feel better about himself. It somehow made up for the times he had gone against what his father told him. It didn’t exactly make sense why it did, but it did.

Draco, at the moment, was most certainly not obeying his father’s wishes. 

He kept closing and reopening his eyes, _praying_ that there was somehow some way to get out of what was inevitably going to happen. In the back of his mind he thought, _maybe they just want to talk. Yeah, that’s it. They just want to calmly talk about why they hate me._ He didn’t know why his brain filled up with stupid thoughts like those. It was a waste of space. But he couldn’t keep them from coming. He was filled up with way too much hope.

Zacharias Smith and company blocked the door, the only way out of the room. Smith and his group kept walking closer and closer to Draco, until he had hit the back wall of the classroom. He was truly trapped and had nowhere else to go. He probably looked really pathetic, shrinking in on himself, tightly gripping his wand; the one he could not use to fucking defend himself. 

This was not his first confrontation with people who wanted to cause him pain. Nowhere near it. He had been attacked too many times to keep track of since the beginning of the school year. But, he always came out fine in the end. Well, he came out fine enough for him or Pansy to cast simple healing spells on. 

He had never told McGonagall that people constantly attacked him. She definitely knew, though. From the times he sported a black eye and from bruises that were clearly visible. She had once even come over to where him and Pansy sat in the Great Hall and asked if students were bothering him. Pansy had shot him a look that said, ‘just fucking tell her the truth,’ but Draco had shook his head and told McGonagall that he was fine. The Headmistress had said to tell her if anyone ever did bother him, because no one deserved to be attacked. 

Draco laughed at the memory now. He did deserve to be attacked. Maybe McGonagall disagreed for some reason, but the amount of people who assaulted him clearly showed he was hated and that he deserved every inch of hate.

He remembered one time, during the first week of the new school year at Hogwarts, Draco had gotten beaten up pretty badly. They hadn’t even used their wands against him. Just beat him up the muggle way. 

It had been late at night, and Draco had been walking around the corridors by himself, because he just needed to clear his head, and the group of Sixth Years appeared out of nowhere. They had apparently been a part of a group of students Draco had reluctantly tortured during his Seventh Year, and were looking for revenge. He thought he maybe remembered their faces, but Seventh Year was honestly a massive blur for him. He tried to forget as much as possible, but somethings could never be forgotten.

A group of First Years had found him after all the Sixth Years had left, all bloody and leaning against a wall for support. They had had no idea who he was. They simply had asked if he was okay (he obviously hadn’t been), and had retrieved his wand for him, since it had rolled far out of his reach down the hall. They had watched in awe as he’d healed himself and cleaned up the blood, and as he’d been ready to leave to go back to his dorm, they had wished him a good night. That memory was probably one of his most cherished.

Now, he tried to surround himself with the warmth and happiness he got when thinking of that memory. It helped keep himself calm and grounded when he thought of joyful moments. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” He muttered. He instantly regretted saying anything out loud. He didn’t even realize he _had_ said it out loud until it was too late. The room was strangely quiet, so you could hear pretty much anything.

Smith laughed. The others followed right on cue. Draco inspected the group in front of him. It was an odd bunch. Two in Hufflepuff- Smith and Finch-Fletchley, two in Slytherin- Theo and Robins, Brocklehurst was in Ravenclaw, and Kaspian was a Gryffindor. He wondered how on earth all six of them could actually stand being in the same room as another, with fucking _Smith_ as the leader. 

“Why are you even here, Malfoy? It’s the middle of January and you seriously haven’t picked up on any indication that no one wants you at Hogwarts?” Theo drawled from beside Smith. The two of them were getting even closer to Draco. 

He wanted to spit in their faces and tell them that yes, he did indeed know that fact, but he very much enjoyed staying at Hogwarts, since that meant he got to be far away from the Manor. He didn’t say anything, though. Instead he clasped his wand tighter, adjusting his grip. Now would probably be the time to cast a shield charm. It would show weakness, but he honestly preferred appearing weak in front of some nobodies than adding more scars to his already battered skin.

Something must have shifted on his face, indicating he was about to perform some sort of spell, because at that moment Smith and Theo simultaneously shouted _impedimenta_ , which instantly slowed down Draco’s movements so that he couldn’t cast any spell. 

From behind Theo and Smith, he could see Finch-Fletchley flourish his own wand and cast _incarcerous_ at him. Ropes automatically began tying themselves around Draco’s body, and he winced in pain and the ropes cut into his skin, even through his clothes. However, he stood strong against the wall of the classroom. He wasn’t going to fall. He could handle this. He had been through far, far worse at the hands of the Dark Lord.

“ _Everte statum!_ ”

“ _Diffindo!_ ”

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

All three charms hit him forcefully right in the chest, and Draco was honestly surprised by the complexity of the charms cast. 

Even though he had specifically told himself he wouldn’t let himself fall to the ground, he fell to the ground. He hit his head painfully on the brick wall behind him, which made the excruciating pain that was already starting to overtake his whole body, so much worse. 

Everything started to get really foggy, and Draco could hear hushed voices coming from somewhere. 

“Maybe that was too much Calder-” A girl's voice.

“Stop talking. No it wasn’t. He deserves it, and you know it, Mandy.”

“We’re going to get in so much trouble-”

“He won’t tell anyone, trust me. He’s weak and embarrassed.”

They weren’t wrong.

“Maybe he’ll even get another scar on his face, one to match that ugly thing on his cheek.” 

“Merlin knows how he got that one-”

“Who cares? Let’s get out of here before someone finds us. I think we did some good damage.” That was definitely Theo’s voice.

There was a shuffle of feet, and he thought he heard the door to the classroom open and close. 

Every inch of his body was starting to burn with pain. He was also losing consciousness quickly, he knew it. He just hoped it would engulf him soon, the pain was beginning to become too much.

\---

The world was extremely fuzzy when Draco attempted to open his eyes again. He didn’t know how long he’d been laying on the cold floor, but it seemed like a good amount of time had passed. 

Every part of his body ached and burned, and Draco wished he would be taken under by unconsciousness once more. His eyes briefly flicked to the door of the classroom, that was shut. The lights were off in the room too, which would definitely make it seem like there was nobody in it. No one would come to save him this time. 

For a split second, he thought, _Potter will come to save me._ Because Potter saved everyone. But if that were true, where had Potter been the other times Draco had been attacked? He didn’t save him then, and he wouldn’t save him now. For some reason, that thought stung. The incident where Draco was stuck in a broom closet did not count. He hadn’t been hurt in any way, unless you counted his hurt pride.

Draco would probably die here, in the therapy classroom. He knew his injuries were definitely horrible, due to the fact that he’d never felt this bad of pain before, other than when the Dark Lord cast the Cruciatus curse on him. Also, the incident with Potter in the bathroom in Sixth Year was pretty painful. 

He kept feeling around for his wand on the floor, but couldn’t seem to find it. He planned on healing a lot of the injuries himself, he probably could do it, he’d always been really talented at healing spells, but he couldn’t heal anything if he didn’t find his wand, and fast. 

He tried to sit up, but was immediately hit with a burst of pain, coming from pretty much everywhere. 

That was when he realized something was very odd. His arm seemed… cold? Like there was nothing covering his left arm. But that was ridiculous, since he made sure he always wore long sleeves. 

He lifted his arm out in front of him, still lying sprawled on the ground, and let out a gasp. His robe sleeve and shirt sleeve had both been cut off at his left elbow, revealing his forearm that had a brand new cut, slicing all the way down the skull and snake. The cut was obviously a new one, not one from his previous self-inflicted injuries, since blood was gushing out _everywhere_. His arm was numb, so he couldn’t really feel the cut that was left there, but the blurry sight of all the blood and the Mark on full display made him want to vomit. 

One of the members of Smith’s group had done this. He was positive. Who else would have known Draco was in this exact room at this exact time? Unless Smith or the others had told someone outside of their little group from that night. But it didn’t really matter who had done it. 

Draco felt a wave of hot shame flood throughout his body. Someone, other than Draco, had seen his Mark. Something he vowed to himself would never, ever happen, no matter what. 

He obviously didn’t have any control over the situation, since it had happened while he was passed out, but still. 

Through his shame, Draco felt something else surge through him; panic. He didn’t know of any spells to repair clothing. He would have to walk through the halls of Hogwarts, with his Mark out for everyone to see. This was probably what they wanted to happen to Draco. They knew causing Draco pain in the form of curses wasn’t enough, they had to tap into Draco’s self loathing to make him really suffer. Even if he clutched his arm tightly to chest, people would know. They would think things, and they would cast him vicious glares. Everyone, save for a couple First Years, knew what he was. 

Not that he was going to leave this room. He was stuck here. On the ground. In the back of a dark classroom that no one used, except for on Fridays. Pansy might start to worry after a while, but she would probably believe Draco fell asleep in the library, and wouldn’t check on him until morning. And when she would come to the library, to find Draco nowhere around, she would trace his steps back to the therapy classroom, to find Draco dead, in a pool of blood, the Dark Mark very much apparent on his pale skin. 

He did not want to die this way. He survived the fucking Dark Lord, he could survive a couple of grief stricken teenagers. That was, if he could find his stupid wand in time to save himself…

The door to the classroom slammed open. To Draco’s amazement, it wasn’t Potter who was going to save him, but Hermione Granger.

Granger, with her hair a frizzy mess, tied up in a knot on the top of her head, looking worriedly around the room. He thought that she was trying to look for him, that maybe someone had tipped her off that he was very badly injured in this room. But she didn’t seem to see him, and instead she said to herself, “Where is my bloody quill?”

Draco’s heart stopped. He was sure she was talking about the quill he had gone to pick up before he was attacked. He had dropped it somewhere during the mess with Smith, and had absolutely no clue where it might have gone. His eyesight was still a little blurry, and it was slowly getting better, but he still couldn’t move very much. 

He then heard a loud gasp, and saw that Granger had apparently spotted Draco, and was running over to where he laid in the back of the classroom. 

“Malfoy! Oh my God! Oh my _God!_ ” She sputtered. She was now kneeling beside him and looked positively frightened from what he could tell. 

She lightly touched his chest and Draco groaned in agony from the contact. She jerked her hand back, realizing she had just hurt him.

He didn’t have much energy to talk to her, and everything still hurt very, very much. He just hoped she knew some healing spells. 

Who was he kidding? She definitely did. She was Hermione Granger.

“You’re going to be okay. Just hold still.” He felt a rush of coolness travel through him, twisting its way throughout every inch of his body. She had apparently cast some sort of healing spell, though he didn’t hear which one; she must have done it nonverbally. Even though he was already starting to feel better, and his eyesight was now back to normal, he felt like shit. His arm was still numb, and his chest and head throbbed an excruciating amount.

“Malfoy, can you tell me what happened?” Granger sounded worried, and her voice was full of distress. He shook his head, he definitely did not want to tell her what happened. He wasn’t going to tell anyone what had happened, except for Pansy. But Pansy wouldn’t tell anyone if he asked her not to, he knew for a fact.

He honestly couldn’t wrap his head around the truth that Granger was worried about his well-being. He had called her a mudblood. That was unforgivable. And now here they were, alone in a dark classroom together, acting like nothing had happened between them in their youth. 

Granger frowned down at him. She was still on her knees beside him and he was still laying on his back, his head lifted up a bit. 

That was when she apparently noticed the pool of blood that was all around them. She sucked in a breath of air at the realization, and then her eyes very obviously traveled to his left arm. She tried to hide her shock at seeing the Mark, but she did so very poorly. He self-consciously brought his arm up to his chest, holding it tightly, and staining his robes with blood, however it wasn’t that obvious since the color of his robes were black, with only a hint of green accenting the Slytherin emblem. 

Another person had officially seen his mark of loyalty to the most evil of wizards. Fucking fantastic. At this point, he wished he would have just been left to die rather than know that one third of the “Golden Trio” had seen his Dark Mark. 

“Malfoy, you need to go to the Hospital Wing. Like now. Can you walk? Never mind, you probably can’t. I’ll go get a teacher-”

“Granger, no, please wait,” He cut her off. His voice sounded hoarse, and it took a lot of energy out of him to speak. “I- I can’t- I don’t want-” He looked down at his arm that was still clutched against his chest, Granger followed his line of sight. “I’ll be fine. I already feel a lot better. I’ll just go back to my dorm and ask Pansy to heal the rest of my injuries.”

He did not want to go to the Hospital Wing. He couldn’t face Madame Pomfrey. He couldn’t have yet another person see the Mark. It was all too much, especially for one night. But, he also didn’t want to have to walk the halls of Hogwarts. He didn’t know how late it was, but he was sure some students would still be up. He could ask Granger if she knew any charms to repair clothing, but that would be way too embarrassing.

He tried to sit up quickly, to show that he really was fine, but it didn’t quite work out. Instead, he banged his head against the wall, making everything blurry again, and was promptly knocked out, meeting darkness once more.

\---

“Will he be alright?”

“Yes, Miss Granger. He might not have been if you would have arrived minutes later, but I can assure you he will be just fine.”

Draco could hear voices, coming from somewhere. He couldn’t open his eyes, and even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. He wished he would be overtaken by darkness again, he felt oddly comforted by the feeling of nothingness. 

“Do you know what happened to him?”

“No, I just went inside the classroom to find my quill I had left behind, and he was laying on the floor in the back.” The person talking sounded pretty shaken up.

“Hmm, and he didn’t say anything to you?”

“No. Well, he sort of talked. It looked like it was taking a lot of effort for him to speak. He said he didn’t want to come here, and that he could just go back to his dormitory to heal the rest of his injuries.”

“Well I am very glad you came and got me. The healing spells you cast did help a tremendous amount, but he’ll need to stay in here for a couple more days to fully heal all his injuries.”

 _Here?_ Where was ‘here’? Where was he? What exactly had happened to him, and who was talking?

“Uh, also, Madame Pomfrey, I think he’d want me to tell you this, but I think he’s uh- rather… self-conscious… about his arm. He looked pretty shaken when I saw it and I don’t think he’d want any one other than you to see…”

“I understand. Don’t worry, he’ll be safe here with me. I’ll keep an eye on him. Now, goodnight, Miss Granger.”

“Goodnight.”

\---

When Draco officially woke up and could actually think straight, he realized he was in the Hospital Wing. He was lying on a hospital bed, with covers up to his chest. He noticed he wasn’t in his school robes anymore, and was in a set of pyjamas that clearly weren’t his. 

“Mr. Malfoy, you’re awake,” Madame Pomfrey stated as she rushed over to him from the other side of the room with her wand in one hand and a potion bottle in the other. “Here, drink this.”

He reluctantly took the potion from her and eyed it nervously. It had a greenish glow to it, and smelled foul.

“It’s not going to kill you, young man. Quite the opposite. You will feel much better after you take it. Now drink up.”

Despite the fact that he was already feeling much better ever since he woke up, he downed the potion in one gulp, and was surprised to find that it did not taste as horrible as it looked. 

“How did I end up here? I was in the therapy classroom, right? If I remember correctly…” Draco asked as he looked around the room. There was no one else in the Hospital Wing at the moment other than himself and Madame Pomfrey. 

“Yes, you were. But after you passed out, Hermione Granger came to get me, and I levitated you here. You’ve been asleep since last night.”

Last night? From the large windows in the room, Draco could obviously see it was dark out, which meant it was Saturday night, and he’d been sleeping all day. What a bloody waste of a day. He could have been doing way more interesting activities were he not attacked… like reading, or studying… 

Wow, he really was pathetic. 

“Wait, so what happened to me? Like, what were all my injuries?” 

“You had a concussion, a few cracked ribs, and multiple chest injuries-” Draco took a sharp breath at the diagnosis- “but I have healed them all. Do not worry. What you need now is rest.”

Draco nodded his head. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep after having slept for such a long time, but he could happily lay in bed and not have to worry about anything.

“I do have to ask you, though, Mr. Malfoy, the cut on your arm, did you cause that yourself?”

Draco was pretty sure he stopped breathing. He absolutely did not want to have this conversation. So much for not having to worry about anything. He looked down at his left arm, and although he had on long sleeves, for the first time since he’d been awake he felt something tight wrapped around his arm, under his sleeve. He guessed it was probably some sort of bandage. But, that meant Madame Pomfrey had fucking wrapped his arm up, and she had probably _touched_ his Mark. His eyes felt prickly with tears, not that he would cry, and he noticed his hands were shaking. He tried grabbing a handful of blankets to stop the shaking, but even that didn’t help.

Madame Pomfrey’s expression turned from stern to troubled as she noticed how upset Draco had become from her question, and she conjured a glass of water with her wand. He kindly accepted it from her and took a sip, then carefully set it down on the small side table next to the bed.

Pomfrey looked like she was still expecting an answer from Draco, and he knew he would have to give it to her at some point. He sighed and said, “No, I didn’t harm myself.” Madame Pomfrey seemed like she was anticipating a much more detailed answer, so he unwillingly went on. “I was… attacked. I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who cut me.” 

She nodded her head and her face looked extremely sympathetic, like she understood what he was going through. 

She knew nothing of what he was going through. Not even close.

Even though he didn’t really want to ask the question, he had to know the answer. “Did anyone else see- you know.” He lifted his left arm up for a second. 

“No, dear,” She said with sad eyes. 

Draco went on, “And- uh- did the cut leave- any scars?” A small part of him wanted to believe the gash over the snake and skull would stay there forever, disfiguring the vile tattoo enough so that he would never have to look directly at it again. But as Madame Pomfrey looked into Draco’s eyes, he knew what the answer would be.

“The cut healed itself. There’s a faint scar, but you can hardly tell it’s there. I wanted to wrap it up though so it could finish healing properly. The skin where-”

“Okay, thanks.” He did not want to hear the rest of what she had to say. He knew all about the skin where the Dark Mark was. He knew no matter how much you marred it, it would always magically heal itself.

Madame Pomfrey looked like she was going to say something else, but the door to the Hospital Wing flew open, and in walked Professor McGonagall, which made Pomfrey turn towards the sound. Pomfrey swiftly left Draco’s bedside to talk to McGonagall.

Draco’s head fell backward onto the pillow. He would have to talk to _another_ person about what occurred after therapy. He really just wanted to be left alone with his thoughts for at least a little bit. 

His head still resting on the pillow, he turned towards the door where McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey stood speaking to each other in hushed voices. Maybe McGonagall just came in to talk to Pomfrey, and would leave soon…

Nope. Professor McGonagall was walking over to Draco’s bed in the middle of the room, while Pomfrey went into her office.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she started as she neared Draco, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

She pursed her lips and looked down at Draco like she knew something he didn’t. 

“Do you care to tell me the details of what happened last night?” She said to him.

 _No, not really._ “Uhm- well a group of students…” He looked down at his hands, which were folded tightly together in his lap. It was just so _embarrassing_ confessing to someone you were attacked because people despise you, and for good reason. “A group of students attacked me last night.” He continued to look down. He guessed she already knew what had happened, Madame Pomfrey probably told McGonagall what he told her, so why did she have to interrogate him when she already knew the gist? Okay, yeah, she was the Headmistress and wanted to make sure her students were safe and healthy, but he wasn’t worth her time.

“And who were the students?” She asked.

“I don’t recall what they looked like,” He lied.

“I see.” He continued to look down at his hands and she went on. “You are welcome at Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy. I hope you know that.”

“Look, I know you’re just trying to be nice, and I appreciate it, but I know I’m not welcome here. You may welcome me, but literally no one else does.” He knew he shouldn’t be talking the way he was to her, but he felt the need to stress the fact that _everyone fucking loathed him_. Why couldn’t she see that?

“Draco,” His head snapped up at the use of his given name, however he didn’t quite meet her eyes, “I-”

But she didn’t get to finish what she was going to say. Once again, the door to the Infirmary slammed open, and Pansy strode in, flanked by Granger, Weasley, and Potter. He was almost relieved to see Pansy, to talk to a friend, but he didn’t know what the fuck the other three were doing, and he had no intention of talking to any of them. 

Madame Pomfrey hastily stepped out of her office at the sound of the door opening, and her expression showed that she was most certainly not happy to see visitors at this hour.

“No, no, no! No visitors at this hour-” _I was right_ \- “It is almost nine o’clock, and Mr. Malfoy needs rest.” If he needed rest so badly, why did she let McGonagall talk to him? “Leave now.”

“Look, I won’t be long, I just want to see how Draco’s doing,” Pansy said impatiently. From behind her, Draco could see Granger nod her head in agreement, while Weasley was staring at his feet, and Potter seemed to have no clue where to look. 

Madame Pomfrey huffed in annoyance. “Fine. You have five minutes! No more!” She then stalked back into her office and shut the door.

Pansy ran over to Draco’s bedside, and immediately leaned down to give him a hug, pushing McGonagall out of the way like she wasn’t even standing there. Draco almost laughed. It was sort of an awkward hug, since he was lying down, but it made him happy. He rarely ever got hugs.

“Mrs. Parkinson,” Professor McGonagall stated from beside Pansy. Her lips were set in a firm line, and Pansy finally realized who was standing there. She visibly blanched at the actuality that she had just pushed the Headmistress to the side.

“Hi, Professor.” Pansy tried to sound nonchalant, but failed.

“Right. Well, we’ll finish this conversation tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy. Have a good night.” With that last statement, she crossed the room to the doors, passing Granger, Weasley, and Potter who were awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, nodding to them as she passed, and left.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “Merlin, Pansy, you are a lifesaver. You just got me out of the most awkward conversation.”

She straightened out, finally pulling away from Draco, but leaving her hand on his shoulder. “I know darling, I am truly amazing, no need to remind me. Actually, I love being reminded, keep the praises coming.”

Draco scoffed, but continued to smile at her. 

“Hi, Malfoy. Er- how are you doing?”

Draco jerked his head towards the end of his bed, where Granger now stood. She was clearly nervous, fiddling with the ends of her robes. Weasley and Potter had come closer too, all three of them were now in a clump. 

“I’m doing fine,” He said. He wanted to add, “Thank you for saving my life,” but he couldn’t seem to move his mouth to get the sentence out. It was also nice to know Granger had come to check up on him, he wanted to thank her for taking time out of her night to see him, but once again, he couldn’t seem to form the words. 

Potter looked like he was going to say something to him, but he continued to keep his mouth shut. Draco wondered if it had anything to do with the other day when he’d told Potter never to speak to him again. At the moment, Draco didn’t know exactly where he stood with Potter. He supposed they were still enemies. Not the kind that hexed and shouted insults at each other anymore, but the kind that avoided each other whenever possible, and hated being in the other’s presence. It wasn’t like he hated Potter the way he did Theo or Kaspian, Potter had saved him from the Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, and from Azkaban; he was sort of in Potter’s debt. But those two things did not make him _like_ Potter in any aspect. He was still a git. He was still annoying and stupid. The fact that Potter got everything he wanted made Draco want to rip his eyeballs out. He was the beloved hero, catching everyone’s attention, making everyone fall in love with him. If Draco had to be honest with himself, he knew he was envious of Potter now, just like he always had been in their youth. That was the life _he_ was supposed to have.

Granger didn’t say anything else, she just continued to stand at the foot of the bed, and after a while of awkwardly staring at Draco, she whispered into Potter’s ear something inaudible.

“We better get going. It’s getting late. I hope you get well soon, Malfoy,” Granger said. 

“Finally,” Weasley muttered under his breath. Granger elbowed him in the stomach, and Pansy, still standing to the side of Draco’s bed, shot him a deadly glare.

Granger tugged on Weasley’s arm, and led him out of the room, without a glance back at Draco. Potter followed right behind them, and he did glance back, however briefly. Then, just like that, the trio was gone.

Draco turned his full attention to Pansy. “Why did you walk in with _them?_ ”

“Trust me, it wasn’t intentional. I was on my way to see if you were awake, and I ran into them on the stairs. Granger asked me if I was on my way to see you, so I told her yes, and she said she would come too,” She explained.

Draco then explained to Pansy in detail everything he could remember from the night before, leaving out the part about the cut on his arm. Pansy pulled up a chair and listened intently to Draco’s story until Madame Pomfrey finally came out to yell at Pansy to leave. Draco was pretty sure Pomfrey had let her stay for more than five minutes, but he didn’t complain. Pansy had also handed Draco his wand. She had apparently come by to see him Saturday morning, and Pomfrey had given her his wand to keep safe until he was awake. 

After Pansy finally left, Draco went back to sulking in his hospital bed. He tried to fall asleep, but he wasn’t tired. Madame Pomfrey bombarded him with many questions regarding his physical and mental health when she noticed Draco wasn’t in the least bit tired. He answered them very vaguely, which annoyed her to no end.

“Young man, you are extremely underweight. Let me get some food in you,” She scolded. Draco did not argue, even though it was getting pretty late at night and wasn’t anywhere near dinner time.

She brought him some toast and butter, along with an apple. Draco mentally thanked her for not trying to force him to eat a large meal. He slowly took bites of his food, resisting the urge to gag. This year it had been even harder than previous years for him to eat, and he didn’t exactly know the reason why. The Dark Lord was gone. He should be scarfing down food, something he hadn’t done since Fifth year. 

When he finished eating most of his food, and set his plate aside, he had to admit he was feeling sort of tired. He was getting settled in his bed, ready to try and sleep when he felt it. A faint burning feeling coming from his left forearm. Draco shook his head, he knew he was imagining it. He had felt similar feelings ever since the Dark Lord had perished. The burning was a figment of his imagination; his trauma. However, he thought to himself, _am I imagining it this time?_

He had to know. It would ease his mind if he took a look at his arm. 

So, Draco carefully pulled up his pyjama sleeve, and unwrapped the bandage. He was sure his heart stopped beating in his chest for at least five seconds. It had to. The Dark Mark was _moving_. It was actually fucking writhing on his forearm, just like it had done when The Dark Lord was alive. He blinked a couple times. He was definitely imagining it. But when he stared at it, long and hard, he was starting to actually believe it _was_ moving. The dull grey color it was last night when he had last looked at it, was no more. It was stark black, once again, and _burning_. 

He had absolutely no clue what to do. He should tell someone. This had to mean the Dark Lord was back. But that was ridiculous, Draco had seen him die, like a mortal man. He could never, ever return. 

“Draco, dear,” Draco quickly pulled his blankets over his arm as Madame Pomfrey walked over to his bed, “Before you sleep, I have to change the bandage on your arm.”

“No. I’m good,” He blurted out.

“I’m sorry, I know this is uncomfortable for you, but it needs to be changed. Now why don’t you just-”

“I’ll do it myself. I’m capable of wrapping a bandage.” 

She sighed and her face looked full of sympathy. “Well alright. Here you go.” She handed him the wrap, and he took it gratefully. “Have a good night, dear.”

He made sure she was in her room, which was directly attached to the Hospital Wing, before he looked at his arm again. He could tell that the cut from before was almost perfectly healed, leaving only the smallest scar. There were other small scars around the same area too, ones that he inflicted on himself. The Mark itself was still moving, and Draco was terrified out of his mind.

He had had many nightmares, where this exact scenario happened. He’d always wake up in a cold sweat, and instantly look at his arm to make sure he was dreaming. Every single time it had been a part of his dreams, except this time, and he seriously had no clue what to do. He was too scared to do anything. He had not been prepared for this to happen, and he now wished he would have been.

He set down the new bandage on the side table, he didn’t feel like putting it on his arm, even though Pomfrey told him to. He felt like he was betraying her trust, but it was such a trivial thing to do at the moment, he was sure she would forgive him if he knew what he was going through.

He was horrified to find that there were tears forming in his eyes. He had made a vow to himself he would never cry again, not since Potter had found him weeping in the bathroom, and he hadn’t broken that vow, and he wouldn’t break it now. He was just extremely tired, and needed a good night's sleep. 

He was sure that in the morning, everything would be okay. But for now, he really wished the world would stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Draco, he's been through so much :(
> 
> I'm so excited to write the next chapter and all the chapters after that, because its just going to be Draco and Harry and ahhh! But anyways, hope everyone enjoyed this chapter even though I made Draco suffer quite a bit. 
> 
> Thank you all for the lovely comments, and all the hits and kudos, I honestly hoped that I would get at the most five people to read my fic by the end of the first week since I published this, so it really blew my mind that more than 50 people have read it so far! That might not seem like that much, but to me it is! So thank you!
> 
> Next update will be sometime next week!


	4. A Passage of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has a strange dream. Or is it more than that?

_Draco was standing in the center of a vast room. The room was seriously massive; filled with spiderwebs and cobwebs in every corner that could be seen. There were towering windows on every wall, smashed through the middle, leaving jagged shards of glass. Even though there were windows, with light seeping through and covering the floor and the small hint of decor in the space, the room seemed dark. It was an eerie sort of sight that sent chills up Draco’s spine. How could a room be both light and dark at the same time?_

_Draco took a step forward. Then another. He could see there was another figure in the room with him. The figure was facing one of the broken windows, not moving at all. If it weren’t for the ghostly outline of the person, Draco wouldn’t have even known there was another living soul with him. As Draco continued to take steps toward the figure, the old and splintered floor creaked under him, signaling his presence. However, the figure didn’t turn around, just shifted their shoulders and leaned back on their heels. Draco was curious as to what the other person was doing, just standing there, not saying anything to Draco. Maybe Draco should say something to the figure? Maybe they were waiting for Draco to make the first move?_

_Then, abruptly, without any warning, the ghost-like figure turned around. Draco almost fell backward, but he caught himself, and stood his ground. The person didn’t move towards Draco, just stood there, staring at him. Or, they probably were staring at him. Draco couldn’t tell. They were wearing a black cloak, with a hood that concealed the whole of their face. The person was much taller than Draco, and had a much wider figure._

_Draco was about to open his mouth and ask for the other’s name, and where they were, but he found he quite literally couldn’t speak. He tried again, but had no luck making any sort of noise._

_“Two,” Said a voice. It was a deep, raspy voice, and it wasn’t Draco’s. The other person in the room had spoken, though Draco couldn’t actually see him move his mouth. He was now sure the other person was a him, the voice clearly gave it away._

_Draco once more, tried to form a sentence, but couldn’t. He stomped his foot in annoyance. What the fuck was happening?_

_“Two weeks,” The voice spoke again, as the only other person in the room took a couple steps towards Draco’s frozen body in the center of the room. Draco had no clue what the man was talking about. Two weeks until what? The man was probably crazy. You had to be crazy to live alone in a room like the one they were both standing in. And if the man didn’t live in this place, why would he choose to be here? Draco could’ve asked himself the same question, since he was also standing in the odd room, but he certainly didn’t choose to be here. He somehow had just appeared…_

Draco opened his eyes. He was still in the Hospital Wing, in one of the hospital beds, and it was now morning. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyelids, feeling exhausted. His dream from last night had been extremely odd, and not like any other dream he’d had before. He remembered pretty much every aspect of it in vivid detail. He usually suffered from nightmares about the war, so it was weird to actually have a normal dream for a change. Not that dreams in general were anywhere near normal, but normal to have a strange, made up dream for once like everyone else had.

He sat up farther in his bed, shifting to get more comfortable. He thought about his dream again. Was it a dream? It felt more than that. It felt like someone had actually entered his mind. That was ridiculous, though. No one could have entered his mind, he knew that. He was exceptionally good at Occlumency, and rarely ever kept his shields down. 

But after thinking about it for a couple seconds, that’s when it hit him; he _had_ lowered his mental shields last night before he slept. He remembered feeling flustered and detesting the world, so he had slipped out of his own wards before he slept.

He wanted to hit himself now. What if someone really had entered his mind while he slept last night? What if it was the cloaked figure he saw in his dream? What about the message the figure was trying to convey?

_The message._

He almost forgot about what seemed like the most important part of what had transpired last night. The figure had said, “Two weeks.” Draco still had no clue what that meant. He guessed he could think about it some other time though. It wasn’t _that_ important that he had to focus his full attention on it. If someone was trying to reach him to send some sort of message, they should’ve known he was the worst representative to choose. They quite literally could have chosen anyone else in the Wizarding World. That was on them if someone was hurt or dying, they definitely should’ve known better.

Draco continued to sit up in his bed, and pushed all thoughts about the vision-like-dream from his mind. He found he was surprisingly hungry. He looked over at the little bedside table next to him, expecting there to be food or tea set out, because he knew Madame Pomfrey couldn’t resist fussing over him and making sure he ate, especially breakfast which he knew people argued was ‘the most important meal of the day.’ But there was nothing on the table safe for his wand, an empty water glass, and a bandage wrap… 

Everything that happened before he went to sleep last night came back to him in flashes. He remembered the Dark Mark _moving_. But maybe it had been a part of his dream? He pulled up his sleeve to check once again, and much to his dismay, it was still moving, the color a deep black. His breath caught in his throat, and his mind instantly thought of sixth and seventh year when the Mark moved constantly, and burned terribly when the Dark Lord summoned him. He still couldn’t believe that the horrid tattoo was moving again. It was the worst sight Draco could ever lay his eyes upon.

He groaned and yanked his sleeve down forcefully. It wasn’t burning like it had been the night before, but there was still a faint pain. 

He tried not to think about the dream and Mark, but it seemed like those were the only two things he could think about. He really needed something to occupy his mind.

Pomfrey’s office door was shut, and so was the door leading to her bedroom. She was probably sitting in either one at the moment, because where else would she be? Draco could probably call for her to bring him a light breakfast, but he knew that was extremely rude. So, he continued to sit in his bed, and thought about Quidditch and different types of defensive spells he would definitely use once his probation was up. 

It seemed like a lot of time had passed, and Draco knew Pomfrey definitely should have come out of one of her rooms by now. She was always so organized and her eyes were on the clock constantly. Had she overslept? Was she running some kind of errand? He was certain Pomfrey would never do the first, and if she had left her seclusion in the Hospital Wing, she undoubtedly would have told Draco and got someone else to watch over him. 

Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed, and was immediately met with a sharp burst of pain coming from his chest. So his wounds weren’t fully healed yet. But Pomfrey wouldn’t mind if the reason he got out of bed was to check on her well-being, right?

Draco was out of the hospital bed before he could answer his own question, grabbing his wand, and ignoring the pain in his chest. He walked carefully to Madame Pomfrey’s office and knocked lightly on the door. Nothing. He knocked a little harder, and still nothing. No noises or movements to indicate there was a living being on the other side of the door. 

He then made the short walk to the door that led to her sleeping chamber. He rapped on the door, a little too harshly, but he was really starting to worry; _still nothing._ “Madame Pomfrey?” He said urgently. There was no response. He tried again, “Madame Pomfrey are you in there?” He wasn’t surprised to receive no answer.

 _She could be hurt, or someone could have kidnapped her or something,_ Draco thought in a panic. He pointed his wand at the door, it was a long shot casting an opening spell since she probably warded it with strong magic, but he had to try. “ _Alohomora!_ ” The door opened.

He rushed inside, slamming the door against the wall, and froze. Madame Pomfrey was lying down in her bed, not moving at all except for the small rise and fall of her chest. So she overslept. Draco felt like an idiot. He had barged into a ladies room, which was completely inappropriate. Nothing was wrong with Pomfrey, besides the fact that she was clearly extremely tired. He glanced at the muggle clock placed on her nightstand, and it read twelve o’clock. 

Draco debated what he should do. It was noon, and Pomfrey should have been up by now, but was it his job to wake her? Or should he just let her sleep? He knew he would have wanted to be left alone if he was in her position. But a part of him told him he should wake her. His mind was almost _begging_ him to wake her. 

He crept over to the side of her bed, thinking how it was foolish trying to be silent when he was going to wake her up anyway.

“Er- Madame Pomfrey?” He cringed as he spoke. He reminded himself of when he had been five years old, and would slip into his parents room, waking them up from a deep sleep because he was afraid of monsters under his bed.

Pomfrey didn’t stir one bit. She almost looked frozen, except for her light breathing. He knew something was definitely wrong. He wanted to reach out and shake her awake, but he obviously couldn’t do that. Instead he left her room hurriedly, leaving the door open behind him. He had to get help from someone. She was probably ill and needed medical assistance. He imagined it must be quite hard to get help though when the one person who was trained in tending to people who were sick, was sick herself.

He knew Pomfrey would scold him for leaving the Hospital Wing, but he was trying to save her life, so hopefully she would look past his disobedience and just be grateful.

He realized as he was about to leave through the front doors, he was still in pyjamas, and his one pair of clothes was without a sleeve. He quickly scanned the room, looking for a change of clothes, and to his absolute amazement, he noticed Pomfrey had left him a new set of robes that weren’t bloodstained or ripped. They were laying on a chair opposite Draco’s bed, and he wondered how he didn’t spot them before. 

He briskly threw off his pyjamas, and changed into his new dress shirt and robes. He stuffed his wand into his trouser pocket, and left the Infirmary to go and get McGonagall or the first professor he ran into.

As he made his way hastily through the corridors, he thought about Smith and Theo and their little group who would probably attack him once more if they found him alone in a hallway. He noticed there were no students around at the moment, so the probability of that scenario was very high. He knew their group could be hiding out behind any portrait or hidden corridor, ready to strike, but the prospect of Madame Pomfrey being in serious danger kept his body moving towards the Headmistresses office. 

As he neared the hallway that split into two directions, one towards the Great Hall and one towards McGonagall’s office, he noticed that there really was no one else around. It was a Sunday afternoon, students should have been wandering around the halls at their leisure, especially around noon, which meant it was lunch time. 

Draco was utterly confused. What the fuck was going on? 

He continued to stare in bewilderment at the empty corridors, when he heard the echo of footsteps bouncing off the walls. He turned himself around to face the stairs he had just come down, relieved to know there was someone else wandering Hogwarts. 

But when Draco realized who the person was, he suddenly wished he was still the only person around. Harry Potter halted at the bottom of the steps, looking perplexed. He stared at Draco like he couldn't believe his own eyes.

“Malfoy? Is that really you? Or am I imagining things?” Potter asked as he glanced around the halls like he was looking for something.

“It’s me, Potter,” Draco responded. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Potter. He was still mad at him, and he had specifically told Potter _not_ to talk to him again. Draco should’ve ignored Potter, but once again the overwhelming urge to instantly snap back at Potter overtook him.

“Something is very wrong here,” Potter said urgently as his eyes continued to wander.

“No kidding.”

Potter looked at Draco and finally noticed his irritated expression. The Boy Who Lived opened his mouth and closed it, apparently searching for words. “Are you still upset with me? Do you still want me not to talk to you?” Potter said at last.

“Honestly, yes.”

Potter crossed his own arms over his chest. “Well, I’m sorry but I can’t. At least for now. Something has happened and you're the only other person around.”

Draco huffed in annoyance. “Why don’t you just consult _Weasley_ about your mid-life crisis, Potter, I have more important business to attend to.” He almost forgot about his trip to McGonagall’s office in the midst of wondering why the halls were strangely empty and running into Potter. He was about to continue on his way when Potter spoke again, even more urgently this time.

“That’s what I’m trying to say. There is literally no one else around. You're the first person I’ve seen up and awake.” 

That caught Draco’s attention. “Alright, go on.”

Potter uncrossed his arms, raking both hands through his unruly hair. “When I woke up this morning, Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were all asleep-”

“Yes, Potter, that’s what people do: sleep. Brilliant observation.”

It was now Potter’s turn to huff in annoyance. “Merlin, just let me finish my sentence!” Potter looked like he was waiting for Draco to interrupt again, but Draco was actually curious as to what Potter had to say. He continued on, “Okay, well I tried waking them up, but no one moved. Like I shook them each numerous times, and everyone just continued sleeping. I tried waking them up with a couple jinxes, but they still didn’t bloody move!” Potter was pacing frantically now, and Draco could honestly relate to Potter’s hysteria.

He was describing the exact same situation Draco had encountered with Madame Pomfrey. Draco felt sick. So something really _was_ wrong. Not that he hadn’t deducted that from everything that had happened that morning, but Potter voicing what happened on his end made Draco sure something was definitely up.

“So, to make sure I wasn’t the one going crazy, I checked all of the other boys’ dormitories, and every single person was sleeping! I would’ve checked on the girls, but I obviously can’t get into their rooms, so.” Potter finished his rant, and sat down on the bottom stair, putting his head in his hands.

Draco continued to stand with his arms crossed in the middle of the hall. Unlike Potter, he wouldn’t lose his cool. “Same thing happened to me when I went to check on Pomfrey. She was asleep in her bed, or what I suppose is sleeping, and when I tried to wake her she just wouldn’t budge.”

Potter looked up at Draco and smirked. “You _shook_ Madame Pomfrey? You threw jinxes at her like I did with my friends?”

“No you ponce! I just mean that I shouted multiple times to get her attention and she didn’t move one bit. I thought she was sick. I was just on my way to get McGonagall when I noticed there was literally no one else around. Well, I guess except for you.” 

Potter frowned. “Wait, aren’t you still injured?”

Yes, he bloody well was still injured, and his chest was throbbing painfully from all the walking around.

Draco was also surprised Potter didn’t bring up any of his own theories of what had really happened to him the night Granger had found him. Granger most certainly would have told Potter what she had seen, though as far as Draco knew, Granger didn’t know he had been attacked. He supposed it was pretty obvious though, unless she thought he had tried to off himself. “Yes, I am. And I know this might shock you, but I thought getting Pomfrey some help was more important than my healing injuries,” He said with as much vigor he could add to his voice.

“Wow. Draco Malfoy being selfless. Maybe I am imagining things.”

“Ha.”

Potter lifted himself off the steps, and took a couple steps in Draco’s direction. “We need to do something.”

“I know. I was going to McGonagall’s office, remember?” Draco lifted one of his eyebrows.

“How about I go check on McGonagall, and then I’ll head towards the Great Hall. I'm sure there has to be someone else awake. Maybe they're looking for others too?” Potter said.

Draco was glad Potter had offered to check on McGonagall, he really didn’t want to talk to the Headmistress if he did not have to. “Fine. You do that. I guess I’ll check the Slytherin common room, see if anyone is awake in there.”

“Right. Okay, yeah good plan. Let’s meet back up here when we’re done, yeah?”

“Fine,” Draco said as Potter moved past him, starting his journey to McGonagall’s office. Draco moved in the opposite direction, glancing around the halls and wondering how strange it was that no one else was around. It was almost unnerving. Almost. It was actually nice to walk around Hogwarts without having to worry about getting hexed or jinxed at any moment. 

He thought about the other night before he had slept, and what he had said to himself. He had wished the world would stop. He had gotten that wish, to an extent. He was stuck with Potter, of all people. But they were currently searching for others who were wandering around Hogwarts, probably just as confused as Potter and him. Draco was certain there had to be someone else. It was just too weird to think that out of all people in Hogwarts to be stuck with each other, it ended up being The Savior and The Death Eater. 

He self-consciously scratched his forearm, hating that he hadn’t had the time to secure about a million cufflinks on his sleeves. He could feel The Mark moving under his touch, and shuddered as he continued on his way to his house’s common room. He would think about his dream and Mark at a later time, but right now the priority was finding other people who were awake. 

Draco reached the blank stretch of wall in the dungeons and rested against it for a second, relieving his aching chest of more walking. 

After the throbbing lessened greatly, he muttered the password, and stepped into the Slytherin common room. He immediately stood still, gaping at the sight of about ten students of all different ages, just sleeping. 

A group of four Third Years were huddled together at a table and slouched over piles of books. They were all dozing peacefully, shoulders rising up and down. But the positions they were in were _weird_. They were such unnatural positions; it had to be uncomfortable. No one could have intentionally fallen asleep with their fingers pinched between pages, heads poking the sharp corners of books. Except for maybe Granger, but she was the only exception. 

He turned his attention towards one of the couches in the back corner of the common room where a girl was lying. He could make out the short, black hair of his only friend from anywhere. It was Pansy. Something sparked inside of Draco, a sharp fear and heartache for the girl who constantly chose to hang out with him. 

He ran over to Pansy’s dozing body, and started shaking her frantically. She had to wake up. But after a while of poking her shoulder and saying her name over and over again, he knew it was hopeless. She was subject to the same kind of curse that everyone else was under. 

He had been hit with disbelief at the words Potter had said, but hadn't really felt the loss of everyone else's presence until he had seen Pansy. Now, it was like they absolutely needed to do everything in their will to break whatever _thing_ Hogwarts had been put under. At least Draco knew, (or was pretty close to sure) everyone was alive. Potter and him could figure out what the bloody hell was going on and fix it and return everything back to normal.

Now _that_ was a weird thought. Potter and himself working _together_. Something they had never in their life done before. But Draco knew it wouldn’t come to that. Someone else would be awake and he or she would join their sad little duo. 

With one last look at Pansy, he made his way to his own dorm. When he stepped inside, he could see that Theo, Blaise, Robins, and Davis were all in their own beds, sleeping. Not that he was really surprised. 

He quickly checked all the other boys’ dormitories, and found them all occupied by sleeping bodies. 

He ran a hand through his hair, walking out of Slytherin and into the halls of the dungeons. It was sort of weird, the fact that he was hoping someone else would have been awake, so that he wouldn’t have to be alone with Potter, and at the same time he was hoping no one else _was_ awake because everyone hated him and would surely blame whatever happened to Hogwarts’ occupants on him. 

He found his way back to where Potter had said to meet, and Potter was already there, sitting on the bottom step once again. He was fidgeting with his robes, and breathing sharply. When he finally noticed Draco’s company, he stopped his nervous movements, trying very poorly to hide his tense composure.

“Any luck?” Potter blurted out.

Draco shook his head morosely and Potter glowered deeply.

“Fuck!” Potter shouted as his head went into his hands. Draco was surprised at the outburst, he was upset with the situation too, but was he screaming? No. “Why can’t I just have a normal school year? Just once! It’s all I ask.” Potter spoke from behind his hands.

“So, I’m guessing you didn’t have any luck either,” Draco said.

“No. I even checked on the bloody House Elves and they were all asleep too! It looks like we’re the only two conscious.”

“Lovely,” Draco mumbled.

“But we should still keep looking. There might be someone in trouble or something.”

Automatically Draco’s thoughts went to his dream, how he thought it might have been a call for help. Could it have something to do with why everyone was asleep? 

“What do you think happened? Like do you think it’s some kind of curse or maybe just some First Year’s spell gone wrong?” Draco asked Potter innocently.

Potter looked up at Draco and contemplated his answer. “I’m not sure what to think. I would hope it was just an honest mistake made by a kid, but what if it’s not? We don’t know anything about what’s happened, besides the fact that we’re pretty sure they’re sleeping and not dead.”

“At least not yet anyway.”

Potter glared at Draco. “Not helping. But, how long could this thing last? Like we don’t know that if we just wait it out, it will be okay, and everything will go back to normal. Because what if we do wait it out and that's the wrong move, and it ends up with people seriously injured or dying? Ugh, I just don’t know what to do.”

Draco supposed he should tell Potter about the ‘two weeks’ warning he had in his dream. He felt like it was somehow connected, and it wouldn’t hurt to get Potter’s opinion on the subject at hand.

“Potter- uh. So, I had this dream last night.” Potter looked utterly confused, like he didn’t know why Draco was talking about his dreams when they were in the middle of a crisis. “I was in this weird room, and there was a hooded figure. I couldn’t see his face and he didn’t say anything except for ‘two weeks.’”

Potter blinked at him, showing no emotion. “And?”

“Well then this-” he gestured vaguely at the empty halls around them- “whole thing happens. I feel like it might not be a coincidence. What if the figure in my dream was trying to tell me something? What if it's another Hogwarts student or teacher who’s awake and needs help?”

“Hmm, maybe. I’ve had experiences with- people, invading my mind. Describe to me what it felt like and maybe I can tell you if it really was just a dream, or something else.” Potter rubbed at the scar on his forehead, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“I think I’m smart enough to realize when someone has entered my mind, Potter. Thank you.” Even though he hadn’t been and still wasn’t completely sure if it was a message or a dream. He really was good at identifying Legilimency, but this time it was much more trickier to figure it out.

“I’m just trying to help, Malfoy. Even after all these years, you’re still a right git who won’t accept help, even when someone offers.”

That stung. Badly. 

As if right on cue, his arm gave a painful jolt, and he instantly gasped aloud. _It isn’t happening again. It’s not the Dark Lord, Draco. He’s dead. He can’t hurt anyone anymore. He can’t hurt you._ Even as Draco stood in the middle of the hallway, mentally reassuring himself: he wasn’t reassured. The painful burning sensation reminded him way too much of a darker time. A time where Draco was scared to breathe. He had felt that if he did, the Dark Lord would kill him or his family.

He turned away from Potter, clutching his arm and willing himself to think of happy thoughts. 

“Malfoy? What’s wrong?” Potter asked. His voice was full of concern.

“Nothing, Potter. Nothing,” He said through gritted teeth. 

_Remember traveling to France with Mother and Father when you were eight? How happy everyone was back then. How Lucius and Narcissa had held hands in front of the Eiffel Tower, beaming down at their only son. A look of pure joy on both of their faces._ Draco pictured the memory vividly in his mind, slowly calming down the panic that had arisen in him.

He dropped his arm and straightened his posture, turning back around to see that Potter was now standing up.

It was all just so strange, everything that had occurred within the past 24 hours. First his Mark had awoken, then the weird dream-like-vision, and then finally everyone in Hogwarts mysteriously falling under some kind of sleeping spell. Now that Draco thought about it all together, it seemed silly _not_ to think they were all connected in some way. 

“Potter, has- has your scar hurt lately?” Draco asked in the most casual tone he could muster. He knew that Potter’s scar was in some way connected to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord himself had talked briefly of their connection during meetings, and though he never revealed much about the strange connection, Draco did know that Potter’s scar was very important. 

Potter looked startled at the question. “Uh, no. It has never hurt in any way ever since Voldemort died. Why?”

Draco winced at the mention of the name, finding it shocking how even after everything, Potter used the Dark Lord’s name as if he was speaking of a friend. The motion did not go unnoticed by Potter, and he gave Draco a look that clearly said _‘really?’_

It was also lucky that Potter didn’t catch on to the fact that the reason why Draco had asked if his scar had hurt at all, was because Draco’s scar _was_ hurting. Potter really was as thick as it got.

“Don’t say his name.” Draco looked directly into Potter’s eyes, scowling at him.

Potter took a step closer to Draco and tilted his head to the side. “Why?”

“I just don’t like hearing the Dark Lord’s name, okay?”

“Don’t call him ‘the Dark Lord’ then. I thought you were better than that.”

“I can’t just-” _I can’t just undo years of calling him that. Saying his name would make everything so real. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to call him anything but ‘the Dark Lord.’_ _I don’t know if I ever will be._ “Do you think _he_ could be back?” The last part came out in a whisper. 

“No.” Potter said it so firmly and so surely that Draco let out a huge breath, even though he was still quite skeptical. “Back to the whole ‘Dark Lord’ thing-”

“Potter. What the fuck? Isn’t it obvious I don’t want to talk about this. Shut _up_ already,” Draco snapped. He could feel his temper rising in him, and it was all he could do to stop himself from breaking his probation restrictions and cursing Potter senseless.

Potter looked equally annoyed and furious. “You brought it up first by yelling at _me_ for saying his name. _You’re_ the prejudiced Death Eater here. It’s _your_ fault you're scared shitless from his name. _You_ chose to follow him and you saw how horrifying he really was first hand, so, unlike people who fought on the right side, even after all this time you still can’t bear to hear _Voldemort’s_ name.”

Draco was taken aback by Potter’s words. He tried to think of a witty, snarky remark that would surely end the Potter bloodline, but nothing came to him. He just stood there, staring at Potter blankly, with his mouth slightly open, processing everything he had just heard from The Boy Who Lived. 

_You’re the Prejudiced Death Eater._

He knew that was how the world viewed him and the Malfoy name in general, but hearing Potter say it; the hero of the Wizarding World, the boy he had grown up with, his sworn enemy, _his_ savior, hurt more than he would have liked to admit. 

Fuck Potter. Draco didn’t need his help to save Hogwarts. He would do it on his own. He was the one who had the strange dream, the one with the angry Mark, he would save everyone on his own. He would prove to Saint Potter he was more than some ‘prejudiced Death Eater.’

He turned on his heels, and headed in the direction of the library, where he would start research on whatever was going on. He was sure Potter was staring dumbly at the back of Draco’s hair.

As he walked through the empty halls, his mind was spinning with one thought.

_Why did everything always revolve around Potter?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read this story so far! It seriously means so much to me. Thank you all!
> 
> SMALL SPOILER: Draco and Harry go to Hogsmeade next chapter


	5. An Eye-Opening Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry go to Hogsmeade.

It was a little past five o’clock when Harry Potter came barging into the library. He was dressed in a really thick coat, and had discarded his Hogwarts robes. There was a Gryffindor scarf draped around his neck, along with a matching hat covering his messy hair, and gloves already on his hands.

Draco scoffed and closed the book that had been open in front of him. “Where are you going?”

“Hogsmeade. C’mon, let’s go.”

“As in, you want _me_ to accompany _you?_ Ha. Very funny. I am perfectly content staying in the warmth of the castle, surrounded by books that probably have the answer to solving whatever’s going on. You go right ahead, though. I’m not stopping you from freezing your bollocks off.”

Draco had been in the library for hours, searching through every shelf and pulling out books that looked important. He was determined to be the one to solve whatever curse or spell had made all of Hogwarts take what appeared to be a very long nap. He was going to find the answer before Potter. Books were a very reliable source, he was sure at least one of them held the answer. 

He also guessed Potter wouldn’t have wanted to join his search reading book after book in the library. He didn’t seem like the studious type. Draco wanted to be _alone_ after his and Potter’s little fight. Draco was tremendously happy that Potter had not followed him, and extremely upset that Potter did eventually find where he was hiding, even if it did take him a few hours. 

So far, all the books Draco had looked through held no relevant information whatsoever. They talked all about Dreamless Sleep Potions, Sleeping Draught, and everything in between, but no sleeping curses. 

Because of all the research he ended up reading thanks to the books on Sleeping Draught, he was starting to wonder if it might have been possible that the whole school had drunk a heavy dose of Sleeping Draught simultaneously. At that point he was convinced he was starting to go mad, but a small part of him still thought there was a slight possibility of it happening.

“We shouldn’t split up. That’s always a bad idea. Have you ever even seen a horror movie?” Potter said.

Draco blinked. “What? A horror what?”

“You know what, never mind. Of course you don’t even know what a movie is.”

He had a point. “Look, Potter. I’m doing fine on my own. If you need company, go and drag Weasley’s arse out of bed and slump him over your shoulder or something.”

“What if we split up and then someone comes into Hogwarts and kills you? Or I get killed in Hogsmeade?” 

That made Draco contemplate Potter’s offer. He knew no one who wasn’t invited to the castle by the Headmistress herself couldn’t enter Hogwarts’ grounds. But, Potter could very well be slaughtered out in the open in Hogsmeade. There weren’t protective wards around the village like Hogwarts, and if Potter died, and the curse broke, everyone would think he had killed Potter of course. If he was lucky he would be sent to Azkaban right next to his father’s cell. If he wasn’t lucky, well… he didn’t want to think about that.

“Come on, Malfoy. You know I’m right. I don’t want to be with you anymore than you do with me, but Hogsmeade seems like the best bet to find answers.”

“Didn’t you just hear what I was doing?” He gestured towards the piles of books in front of him. “Looking through books is a very good way to get information.”

Potter was probably right in this case though. Hogsmeade would offer answers as to whether anyone else was awake. If people were up and about, they could get help, and neither he nor Potter would have to do anything about the whole sleeping problem. They might expect Potter to do something though, since he was The Savior and all.

If people were incidentally awake, he would have to _talk_ to them. Potter was now the only exception besides Pansy that he talked to on a regular basis. And he didn’t _want_ to talk to Potter, but because of circumstances he could not control, he now had to speak to the annoying git routinely. 

Also, he didn’t think he _could_ leave Hogwarts’ grounds. He would be breaking a part of his probation, and that might make the scenario where he’s beside his father’s cell, quite real. The problem at hand was extenuating, and the Aurors might go easy on him because he was trying to save Hogwarts, and he bloody well wasn’t able to ask for permission, but he didn’t know for sure that they would let him off the hook.

He didn’t voice any of what he was thinking to Potter. “It’s getting late. It’ll be completely dark soon.” 

Potter looked annoyed at Draco’s lame attempt for an excuse. “Pleaseee, Malfoy. Books aren’t going to get you anywhere. Trust me.” Potter said in the most whiny voice humanly possible. Draco was glad to know Potter was still immensely immature.

He pushed a couple of books far out of reach so he could rest his elbows on the table.

He knew Potter wasn’t going to give up. But neither was he. Potter would either stay in Hogwarts or go to Hogsmeade alone. That was that. 

\---

Ten minutes later Draco found himself getting dressed in the warmest clothes he could find, in his dormitory surrounded by his still sleeping roommates. 

Potter had been far too insistent in his complaints and Draco was having a pretty terrible day as it was, so he eventually gave in to Potter and told him he would go to Hogsmeade. Potter had seemed supremely surprised that Draco had complied, and said he would wait for him by Hogwarts’ main entrance while Draco got bundled up for the bitter cold.

Now Draco was rummaging through his trunk trying to find his set of Slytherin outerwear. If Potter was going to go full on Gryffindor, Draco was sure as hell going to do the same with Slytherin. The house rivalries were stupid now, considering everything that happened with the war; it seemed so childish, but despite everything he still felt Slytherin was the best and had to prove it to ever so Gryffindor Potter. 

He finally found his green scarf, hat, and gloves and put them on. He already had changed out of his robes and dress shirt and had switched to a black jumper with his winter coat on top.

Once he made sure he wasn’t leaving behind his wand, he eyed the set of cufflinks on the table miserably. He didn’t need them. He didn’t. He was wearing a heavy coat, and it would look silly with his jumper. And yet… 

He hastily secured them on the ends of his jumper sleeve, because he was weak, and insecure, ignoring how atrocious they looked on the nice cashmere material. Not that anyone would see. He was just going to walk around outside in Hogsmeade for the tiniest bit, then leave as quickly as he could to go back to Hogwarts. 

He wished he hadn’t given into Potter’s quips and had stood his ground, now that he made his way to the front entrance of the school. His healing injuries definitely did not appreciate all the walking Draco had done that day, and surely weren’t going to appreciate the long trip to and from Hogsmeade at all. He thought of poor Madame Pomfrey, all alone in her room, who had told him he shouldn’t leave bed for about three days.

“Hmph-” A certain someone said as Draco ran into Potter’s back, thanks to his wandering mind. Potter smelled of broom wax and sweets, Draco thought; he could tell due to their awkward close proximity.

Draco backed away in a hurry as Potter turned around, noticing that Draco had run into him and lingered a second too long.

“What the fu- Malfoy. Seriously.” Potter eyed Draco up and down, taking in his Slytherin attire. Draco felt himself blush under Potter’s gaze, and immediately picked a spot on the wall to stare at, giving himself something to do other than have to acknowledge his awkward stance in front of Potter. 

“I’m just showing my Slytherin spirit, Potter. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

“I can obviously see that, but really? Do you have to try and one up me at everything?”

Draco shrugged, for the lack of anything else to say to Potter. 

“Okay then, let’s go.” Potter declared, and set off in front of Draco through the doors. Draco immediately went to catch up to him, since he was _not_ going to be led by Potter. He quickened his own pace so he would be a bit ahead of Potter, and Potter noticed, for he laughed out loud.

It was weird to think that a couple days ago, Draco had let Potter lead him to Transfigurations. Not even giving a second thought about trailing behind him. Now, it felt like he had to show Potter he was confident, and knew what he was doing. It might have been because of the little quip Potter had made earlier about Draco being a prejudiced Death Eater, but he wasn’t sure.

He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the whole situation that was unraveling before him. Why did all of this stuff have to happen to him? Hadn’t he already suffered enough? Was this the universe’s way of getting revenge for all of the horrible stuff he had done? But if that were true, why was Potter also here? Potter had done absolutely nothing wrong. It all didn’t make sense. There were so many questions he had, it felt like it was impossible for them all ever to be answered.

“Stop!” Potter said from behind Draco. “Stop kicking snow up! It’s getting _everywhere!_ ” 

Draco hadn’t known he was kicking up snow, but now that Potter had said something, he intentionally made sure his shoes were flinging Potter with snow.

“Ugh!” Potter shouted, and Draco snickered. Potter moved to walk besides Draco, with enough distance between them that they wouldn’t accidentally touch each other.

The rest of the walk to Hogsmeade was uneventful and full of horrifically awkward silence. A couple times Potter made a noise that indicated he was trying to start a conversation, but he never actually spoke words. Draco wanted to pull his hair out, the tension between them was so uncomfortable. It was like they didn’t actually _know_ how to have a conversation with the other. They usually only ever insulted each other or had quick, unimportant discussions, like on Thursday when Potter had rescued Draco from that broom closet, or Potions class on Friday. Conversations about the whole sleeping curse didn’t really count. It was basically forced conversation. But now…

“Looks like we’re here.” Potter said as they neared Hogsmeade. Draco was extremely grateful that they had arrived. He desperately needed to sit down. His chest was absolutely killing him, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if he had looked down to see that his cuts had opened back up again and were leaking blood through his jumper and coat. He supposed he could have taken a rest in the snow if his injuries had gotten really bad, but he didn’t want to freeze his arse off, so he had kept walking alongside Potter, making no complaints.

Draco spotted a bench when the two of them entered the village, and strode over to it, not caring that he was leaving Potter standing in the entrance.

Potter apparently cared that he was being abandoned, though. “We aren’t supposed to split up, remember?” Potter said as Draco pushed aside a pile of snow from the bench, sitting down and scrunching up his nose at the agonizing feeling of water seeping through his pants. Honestly, he didn’t know why he had avoided sitting in the snow when sitting on a wet bench was basically the same exact thing.

“I’m not splitting up from you, Potter. I’m just resting.” Draco informed Potter, who was now walking over to where Draco was seated.

Potter stood a little bit in front of Draco, facing the streets of Hogsmeade, which were completely empty. Lights illuminated the streets, making it easy to see in the dark; it was definitely a creepy sight. It felt like a ghost town.

“So, either no one is in the mood for some shopping, or Hogsmeade also got hit with whatever sleeping spell Hogwarts is under.” Potter inquired. “Are you done resting? We should check out all the shops and see if there actually is anyone else awake.”

Draco wanted to tell Potter to go on without him, but he knew Potter wouldn’t allow that, as a result of his weird paranoia that some shit was going to happen to either of them if they were separated. 

“I guess I’m ready to walk.” Draco said, even though he very much wasn’t ready.

“Great.”

So they set off, peering through windows of shops that were locked, which was all of them. Draco guessed the ‘sleeping curse’ struck when everyone was sleeping during the night. It would make the most sense. They had found Hogwarts students in their beds, with the exception of a few Slytherins who had stayed up to study. That meant the owners of all the shops were probably in their own beds.

Potter and him continued their search in total silence, not even talking to acknowledge that they had so far found no one else awake. When they had stopped to peer into the window of Honeydukes, Potter eyed all the sweets inside very obviously, and Draco watched as his eyes lit up respectively. There was something about Potter’s child-like demeanor that was consoling.

“So, we’ve checked every place now. I think it’s safe to say we are the only ones awake.” Potter said as the two of them started walking back towards the entrance of Hogsmeade.

“Well, there could still be someone else. Everyplace was locked. Someone could very well be inside enjoying the peace and quiet without even knowing there’s a crisis going on.”

“Yeah, but we banged on all of the doors. I’m pretty sure someone would have come out to see what the commotion was all about…”

Draco’s stomach growled loudly, and he automatically cast a _tempus_ charm, seeing that it was about eight o’clock. He realized he hadn’t eaten all day. Maybe Pansy was right, maybe he really couldn’t take care of himself properly.

“We should get something to eat.” Potter stated. A light dusting of snow had started, covering Potter’s hat and shoulders with white flakes. They both noticeably shivered against the cold. “We should also get warm for a bit.”

“Yes, isn’t that why we’re going back to Hogwarts? To get food and shelter?”

“The journey back is so long. We won’t ever make it to the castle on empty stomachs.”

“So what are you suggesting we do? Break into one of the shops?”

Potter gave him a pointed look that said, _that’s definitely what I’m suggesting._

“Okay look, oh Chosen One, you might not get in serious trouble for breaking and entering, but I most certainly will.” Draco remarked.

“It’ll be fine. No one will ever know.” Potter started walking in the direction of the Hog's Head. Draco wanted to shout after him, “Now look who’s splitting up from the other?” But he didn’t. He reluctantly followed after Potter, who was now pulling out his wand and casting a series of opening spells on the Hog’s Head front door, trying one after the other until one would allow them passage.

Finally, one worked, and the door flew open. Potter scrambled in, apparently too freezing to stand outside a minute longer. Draco didn’t know why he didn’t just cast a warming charm, but he could have asked himself the same question.

Potter went straight to the counter that would have been selling Butterbeer and other alcoholic drinks, under normal circumstances. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Draco asked skeptically, making his way to the counter.

“Oh yeah, I’ve been here plenty of times this summer and have served myself Butterbeer from the tap. Let’s just say I’m pretty good friends with the person who owns the Hog’s Head.” Draco had no clue who the owner was, and didn’t have much interest in finding out. During his earlier years at Hogwarts when he and his friends would go to Hogsmeade, they would always pick The Three Broomsticks to get Butterbeer and food over any other place. Now though, he was extremely happy Potter had picked the Hog’s Head to take shelter in. He didn’t know if he was brave enough to enter Rosmerta’s pub. 

Potter was now serving himself a nice sized Butterbeer, foam spilling out over the top of the glass. He made a glass for Draco too, which made him surprised at the kind gesture. He could have figured out how to serve himself a glass of Butterbeer surely, and Potter must have known he was capable, so why was Potter being purposefully _nice_ to him?

They sat in silence sipping on their own Butterbeers at a small table. Draco made sure his seat was far away from Potter’s, and Potter did the same. After a while, Potter got up and made his way to the back room, trying to find something edible to eat. He came back about five minutes later with his arms full of a basket of assorted fruits. (Why the fuck did a pub have assorted fruits?) 

Once again, Potter made many sounds that designated he was trying to start up conversation, but came up short every time.

Once they had finished their odd dinner- or what he should call a late night snack- they stood up and rearranged their chairs back to where they were placed before. Potter reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a couple galleons, setting it on the table. Draco felt like he should say something about how he could pay for himself, but when he reached into his own trouser pocket, he felt nothing, and remembered he hadn’t put any money in his pockets, as he had thought he wouldn’t be needing it. It was weird having _Potter_ pay for him.

“So, uh, should we just go back to Hogwarts then?” Potter asked as he and Draco left the Hog’s Head, both of them pulling on their scarves and gloves to brave the harsh cold.

Draco was about to comply and tell Potter that yes, he was ready to make the walk back to Hogwarts, when Potter gasped and turned his head sharply to the side, an expression on his face that said, ‘I just saw a fucking ghost.’ (And not the Hogwarts kind).

“What?” Draco was looking in the direction where Potter’s attention was grabbed, and saw nothing of interest. “Potter, what is it?”

“Hurry, follow me.” Potter started running towards the back of Hogsmeade, to the part where the village met the land where no Hogwarts student was allowed to go. Potter had pulled out his wand, and the tip was casting a bright light, illuminating Potter’s outline as he ran farther and farther away from where Draco was still standing. 

Draco cursed under his breath. He was most certainly _not_ up for running. His stomach barely had any food in it, his injuries were still not fully healed, and he was severely out of shape. The first reason was sort of on him, and the second one he couldn't control, but the third reason was a good reason and there was a really good excuse. He _was_ locked away in a prison cell all summer, and at Hogwarts he barely had time to exercise, since most of his time was spent studying and keeping his head down, not drawing attention to himself.

His feet reluctantly started moving, and before he knew it he was doing a weird jog-like-run thing, trying his best to catch up to Potter. He cast a _lumos_ with his own wand as he got farther away from the lights in Hogsmeade, and he thanked himself for casting the spell because without it he would have tripped about a thousand times already over fallen branches and holes in the ground.

Potter had stopped just up ahead of Draco, at the very edge of Hogsmeade, his wand still casting a light all around him. Draco eventually caught up to him, and was extremely out of breath, though he tried not to show it as he neared Potter, who was very much not out of breath. The prat. Potter _was_ in extremely good shape, so it made sense. He probably took the time to exercise; Draco wished he could ask him if that were true or not.

Potter turned slightly at the sound of Draco approaching, and gestured for him to come closer. Draco eyed Potter skeptically, but did walk a bit closer to Potter.

Potter was rocking back and forth slightly on his feet, wringing his hands at his sides. He was glancing all around them like there was something that was obviously there, that Draco could not see. Draco squinted in front of him, trying his hardest to see what Potter apparently saw, but he just continued to look out at the plain fields of grass, with outlines of trees in the distance, no interesting objects in sight.

“Potter. What are you looking at? I feel like I’m going blind.” Draco said at last.

“You don’t see it? Look harder. It’s all around us I promise.”

“What are you-” Draco stopped himself as he saw a glint of something shiny and translucent in front of him, slightly reflecting in the wand light. He looked up to stare at the sky, and saw that the shiny-translucent thing was quite literally all around them, encasing them, just like Potter had said. It was like a huge spherical ward that went up miles high, and stretched width-wise miles long.

“Is this- some type of protective ward? Like the one that’s around Hogwarts?” Draco asked. It was more of a rhetorical question, since he was pretty sure that was exactly what it was, but he felt the need to get Potter’s opinion.

“It seems like it. I don’t think this was here before. I just came here on Thursday, and I didn’t notice anything like this then. It must have just gone up…” Potter lowered his wand to the ground, bending down with it, and picked up a rock the size of his palm with his free hand. Draco just watched Potter, not really understanding why Potter needed a pet rock right this second.

Potter stood back up again, the rock still in his hand, and threw it outside of the ward.

The rock immediately disintegrated.

Draco and Potter both let out a collective gasp at the sight. Whatever Draco was expecting to happen to the rock Potter had thrown, it most certainly wasn’t _that_. Potter was apparently thinking the same thing. He had his mouth open, and Draco itched to say something along the lines of, “You’ll catch flies, Potter. Stop gaping like a complete idiot.” But he was sure Potter would slap him.

“This- I- I don’t know what to think of this.” Potter said. Draco nodded his head.

“So someone, put this ward up? On purpose? To… entrap us?”

“We don’t know why it’s up. But, I feel like that’s honestly a pretty good guess. It’s strange that this happened on the same day we find out everyone in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade is under some sort of spell.” 

Draco also wanted to bring up his dream again, how that had happened on the same day too, but he felt it would probably lead to some sort of argument, like it had earlier that day. He also thought about his Mark, how that had somehow awoken the previous night, before he had fallen asleep and had the dream and found out everyone was under a spell. He wasn’t going to tell Potter about that, though. No way.

“So, you think that maybe the sleeping spell wasn’t an accident after all? That this is all connected somehow?” Draco asked.

“You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if some dark wizard was out to destroy us all again.” 

Draco looked down at the ground. This was exactly the kind of discussion he was trying to avoid talking about. Dark wizards. The Dark Lord. His role in all of it.

“But why us?” Draco was asking a lot of questions, but he needed a lot of answers. His brain was starting to get insanely cluttered with everything he had to think about.

“Pardon?” Potter turned to face Draco directly. His face was lit up by his wand, and Draco could see that his nose and cheeks had started to turn pink, and he was shivering. Draco guessed he looked the same to Potter. 

“You know, why is it just us two? It could have been literally any other two students, but it ended up being _us_ . It’s weird. What the fuck do we have in common with each other?” _We hate each other. We’re mortal enemies. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Right and wrong. Good and evil._

Potter shook his head. “It is weird. And I couldn’t even begin to form an answer for you. I’m just as clueless.”

Draco had yet another question. His mind kept coming up with more and more inquiries as seconds ticked by. “What if the whole Wizarding World is under this spell? The Ministry. The Aurors. Literally every head wizard. We’d truly be on our own.”

“We could write a note. We could get one of the owls to send a note to the Ministry, and see if they are alright. If they are, then they can help us.” Right as Potter finished speaking, he realized how dumb of an idea that was. Draco could _not_ bite his tongue this time.

“You see, Potter. We just watched a rock evaporate before our eyes when it crossed the ward. I don’t think an owl could break past it.”

Potter let out a low ‘ugh’ sound, and turned away from Draco. “You know I realized that, thank you.”

“Just trying to keep you enlightened of your mistakes.”

“We’re talking about mistakes now, huh?” Potter said as he started trudging back towards Hogsmeade village. Draco stayed quiet. He admitted to himself, he had walked right into that one. 

Draco caught up with Potter, and he realized he was still slightly out of breath. He tried to breathe normally, but that somehow made everything worse. He stumbled a little and then doubled over, knees hitting the ground, one hand clutching the grass under the snow and the other clutching his chest.

Potter stopped a couple feet ahead of him, and noticed Draco was no longer with him. He turned around and spotted Draco, frowning as he walked closer. “Malfoy, what’s wrong?”

 _Everything_. “Nothing. I’m-” He winced- “Fine.”

“You are clearly not fine. Tell me or I’m just going to keep asking, never going to leave it alone until you-”

“Fine! Whatever. It’s my injuries. They aren’t fully healed yet and all this walking and running is definitely not helping my situation.” He stopped kneeling, and thought, _fuck it_ , as he sat in the snow. Potter continued to stand over him, but wasn’t looking down at Draco.

“So you’re still not fully healed?”

“That’s what I just said, yes.”

“What happened anyway? What happened that made you end up in the Hospital Wing?”

Draco had really hoped Potter would never ask that question, but here they were. He sighed and unwillingly explained to Potter what had happened after their Friday night therapy session. Potter did eventually look down at Draco as he told the story, raising his eyebrows in shock at some parts, but he never interrupted. He never told Potter the part about the cut on his arm, though. Again, he did not need to know everything.

“Wow. Okay I was not expecting that. Does this happen to you often?” Potter asked.

Draco shrugged.

“We should really get back to Hogwarts then. Can you walk?” Potter shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“I guess so. Definitely not fast though.” Draco said as he pulled himself up off the ground, snatching his wand out of the snow and shoving it into his trouser pocket. 

They started making their way back to the path that led from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, walking right next to each other. There was still a good amount of space between them however. Potter made sure he wasn’t walking that fast, matching Draco’s slow speed. It started to snow more heavily, and both boys pulled their coats tighter around them. 

“So, you’re pretty close with Parkinson, yeah?” Potter spoke from beside Draco.

Draco didn’t stop walking but felt like he needed to, since the surprise that Potter was actually _talking_ to him, hit him pretty hard. “You’re talking to me?”

“Yes.” Potter didn’t sound quite sure though.

“Well, uhm, yes. Pansy and I are close. She’s really my only friend.” 

“What about Goyle? Do you two still talk?” 

“We’ve written a couple letters to each other. He didn’t come back for this year though, since Vincent’s death hit him pretty hard.” Draco had also been overcome with a large amount of grief over his old friend’s death, but he had accepted the fact that he was gone by now. He hadn’t really been Draco's friend by the end of seventh year, he had been more of a henchman, but Draco was still upset he was gone. 

“Makes sense.” Is all Potter had to say.

Draco worked up the courage to ask Potter his own question. If Potter could be civil and ask about Draco’s friends, so could Draco. “What about Granger and Weasley? How are they?”

“You did not just ask that question. ‘How are they.’ Seriously? You cannot be the same Malfoy that I have known for the past eight years.”

“Afraid it’s me, Potter. Though I wouldn’t expect you to notice I’ve changed.” Draco felt a snowflake fall directly on the tip of his nose.

“I don’t think anyone’s noticed, truthfully.”

“Excuse you?”

“I just mean, you never talk. You never interact with other people, besides Parkinson. You haven’t given the chance to show literally anyone you’ve changed.”

Draco was speechless. Not because he was angry at Potter, but because he realized Potter was _right_. He had never even thought of that. Sure, he didn’t use slurs or insult people of Muggle heritage anymore, but that didn’t show people he didn’t believe in the Pureblood supremacy crap anymore. He could have very much still agreed with everything the Dark Lord stood for, since he never voiced anything otherwise to the public. The thought made him sick. 

“I don’t believe in all of that Pureblood shit, anymore, just so you know.” Draco said quietly. Maybe some part of him still did, but he _was_ trying. 

“Well that’s a relief.”

Draco couldn’t come up with anything more to say. Potter took his silence as time for him to speak. 

“To answer your question, about Ron and Hermione, they’re okay. Ron is still shaken up about Fred’s death and all, but he’s doing a lot better than he was this summer. Hermione has a lot of nightmares and she rarely ever sleeps, but she’s also doing better.”

“That’s… good.” Draco responded. “What about Kaspian? And why have I never seen him before this year?”

“He was required to go to Hogwarts last year, and I guess he just stuck around for this year too. But he’s fine, I guess. He’s Muggle-born so it was pretty hard for him and his family during the war, but they’re all safe now.”

Draco nodded his head. _Back on the topic of the war, then?_ Somehow it always led back to the war with the two of them. It was like they were destined to talk about what had transpired over the last two years with each other. But Draco was not going to talk about the war with Potter.

Potter stopped walking, and stood facing the side of the path they were walking on. Draco automatically saw why he had stopped and what he was looking at. There was a patch of bright yellow flowers, sparkling in Potter’s wand light. Draco recognized them as Anemonlea, a rare type of flower that only blossomed in the winter. He knew it was quite difficult to actually spot them, for they usually bloomed far away from the human population.

“Wow. They’re beautiful.” Potter remarked as he bent down to pluck one.

Before Draco even knew what he was doing, he rushed over to Potter and swatted his hand away. Potter looked startled, and his green eyes were huge, staring right into Draco’s grey ones. “Don’t touch them, Potter. Leave them be. They’re rare flowers.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because I’m quite good at herbology. I actually paid attention in that class, unlike some people.” Draco raised his eyebrow at Potter. “They’re called Anemonlea.”

Potter stood back up, and so did Draco. “You are _such_ a nerd. I honestly think you’d get along really well with Hermione.”

“I just care about my education, Potter. Nothing wrong with that.” 

They started walking along the path once again, keeping their pace slow. Except this time Draco felt that something had changed. Some line had been crossed, between the two of them. The tension that was there before, was gone. The walk back to the castle was filled with comfortable silence this time, only broken by Potter almost slipping on a patch of ice and Draco laughing hysterically at him.

Draco realized he had had a conversation with Potter. A real conversation that didn’t have anything to do with the sleeping curse or being rude to one another. They had talked about their friends, and had very lightly broached the untouchable topic of the war, without getting into a huge argument. 

When they both arrived at Hogwarts’ front entrance, Potter and him turned to each other. Potter stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, and Draco crossed his arms. 

“So, listen. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I think we should stop insulting each other for now on, if we actually want to accomplish anything. We’re the only ones awake. We have to accept that fact. We’re on our own. _We_ are the ones that are going to have to save everyone. I don’t think we can do this alone. We’re going to have to work together.” Potter said.

Even though earlier Draco had wanted to solve everything alone, after the trip to Hogsmeade, a part of him realized he wouldn’t be able to. He did need Potter. As much as he hated to admit it. He was also pretty sure Potter needed him.

“I guess you're right.” Draco said.

“Uh- so, truce?” Potter held out his hand for Draco to take.

Potter was still a git. He was still an annoying, self-righteous Gryffindor, with atrocious hair. Draco still did _not_ care for him. But, he knew that he needed an ally right now. Potter was the only option.

“Truce.” Draco shook Potter’s outstretched hand.

_This was going to be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy Drarry is finally sort of kind of happening! Though they still have a longgg way to go.
> 
> I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe!


	6. Research and Requirement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New discoveries.

Draco should’ve taken into consideration where the fuck the two of them were going to sleep. How could he not have remembered that there was the slight problem of sleeping arrangements? Maybe his mind _was_ becoming way too cluttered with question after question regarding the whole curse, and newly added on to the list, magical wards encasing them.

Before, all he had to worry about were curses and hexes directed at _him_. He had not foreseen the terrible tragedy that he would have to save the no-good-somebodies who were constantly trying to make his life hell. But he had doomed himself to that fate, hadn’t he? He had joined the side of the darkest and evilest of wizards, and that was his punishment.

Standing beside him in front of the doors leading to the Great Hall, Potter scratched the back of his neck, and then started pulling off his gloves, hat, and scarf. 

“So, uh, sleeping arrangements…” Potter said, for about the hundredth time.

“Yeah. Sleeping arrangements,” Draco responded, also for about the hundredth time.

Out of all of their problems right now, that one was probably the biggest and most difficult to deal with. And that said a lot. There were only two of them, in a castle filled with sleeping bodies, and no place to sleep. Potter wouldn’t allow them to split up, he said it wasn’t safe to be alone, since now they were both pretty sure someone had intentionally cast a sleeping curse and trapped them so they couldn’t go farther than Hogsmeade and contact the outside world. It _was_ pretty clear that there was a dark wizard out there with some horrible plan, but Draco didn’t understand how that interfered with _sleeping in their own fucking beds._ At least for one night anyways until they figured out the next best option of where they should sleep.

They had already ruled out the option of them both sleeping in either Gryffindor or Slytherin together. All of the beds were occupied by their roommates, leaving only one bed open; Draco’s bed and Potter’s bed. They were most certainly not going to sleep together in one bed. They had both silently agreed on that fact. They had talked about transfiguring a bed out of some other piece of furniture in one of their common rooms, but they both weren’t the best at transfiguration, and they weren’t able to agree on which common room they should occupy.

Then came the discussion of taking up occupancy in the middle of one of the corridors. Potter had said they could take pillows and blankets from either of their common rooms and make a little spot to sleep anywhere in the castle. Draco had almost slapped him due to creating such a stupid idea. He was not going to sleep on the fucking ground. But then he had remembered their new found truce, and restrained the urge. Not that he would have slapped him or hurt him anyway, he was trying to be a better person, and that would have taken him back _a lot_ of steps.

“Oh! I know!” Potter announced.

“Okay great, what is it?”

“The Room of Requirement. We can have our own two beds, and it will provide us with a bathroom, food and everything if we desire it. It’s perfect. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

“I wish you hadn’t,” Draco mumbled very quietly under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Potter. Uh- that’s a good idea, yeah. Let’s go then.” Draco did not want to go to the Room of Requirement, but he wasn’t going to let Potter see his cowardice. That room would surely bring back many horrible memories that he didn’t want to recount. Nevertheless, there wasn’t any other option they could think of, so it would have to do. Draco could be brave. He could withstand the dreadful memories it would most likely bring him.

\---

Now that Draco was standing in front of the wall that led to the Room of Requirement, he knew he couldn’t be brave. Potter also seemed a little tense, so at least that eased his mind a bit.

“So, I guess we just walk in,” Potter said.

“I guess so.”

Potter walked back and forth three times in front of the wall, and a door appeared. He pushed the door open and stood facing the inside of the room. Draco backed up a little, his breathing intensified. Potter turned to face Draco, and noticed how scared his composure must be. His brows creased and he took a deep breath, which made Draco do the same.

“Look, I’m scared too-”

“I’m not scared,” Draco confirmed.

“Malfoy-” Potter started, and Draco looked away; he couldn’t focus on Potter’s sympathizing face, it hurt too much. “What if we go in together?”

“Together?” Draco repeated.

“Yeah, you know, together.”

“Uh-”

“It’s not like we have to hold hands or anything-” Draco scoffed at the idea- “But, we can just walk in together, side by side.”

“Okay. Whatever,” Draco said. Only, he found himself quite complacent with Potter’s offer. 

They both stepped into the room _together_ , Draco chewing furiously at his lip. The room was transformed into a spacious bedroom with two beds pushed up against a wall. It was decorated in different shades of green and red, to match his and Potter’s houses. There was a couch in the center of the room with many blankets and pillows folded neatly on it, along with a tray that held a variety of different snacks and drinks. A huge fireplace with a roaring fire was near the couch, and there was a door that presumably led to a bathroom in the far corner. The Room of Requirement had really hit every mark on the list of what they so desperately needed at the moment. 

Draco began to relax at the sight of everything. It looked nothing like the place where he had worked tirelessly on the Vanishing Cabinet. The fireplace didn’t even remind him of the Fiendfyre that had happened in that very room. It gave off a homey feel instead, which Draco really appreciated.

“Wow. This is really nice, and not at all what I was expecting,” Potter said as he walked farther in, closing the door behind him and admiring every aspect of what the Room of Requirement had created.

“Yeah,” Draco said as he made his way slowly towards the fireplace.

“I’m sorry, I forgot what you had gone through with this room when I had announced we should use it.”

Draco whirled around in his spot by the fire to face Potter, shocked at all the talking and apologizing Potter had done in the last twenty four hours. “Why do you keep saying sorry? Why do you care about me after all the horrible things I’ve done to you?”

“I’m just trying to be nice-”

“No. The real answer, Potter.”

“That is the real answer, Malfoy. I still dislike you. I still want to see for myself that you’ve changed. But, I’m trying to be nicer since we are stuck with each other.” Potter was wandering around the room, brushing his hand over pieces of furniture. His other hand was sticking some sort of biscuit into his mouth, and Draco could just _see_ a mountain of crumbs fall onto the polished floor.

“But, earlier you called me a ‘prejudiced Death Eater,’ and Friday you didn’t give me any credit for our potions assignment.”

“What part of ‘trying to be nicer’ don’t you understand? I’m sorry for all the shit stuff I said and did to you earlier, okay?” Potter stated. 

Draco honestly didn’t fully understand it. The idea that Potter was being pleasant towards him now, when that morning he had called Draco a name he absolutely hated hearing. Though Draco supposed he had also been pleasant towards Potter at Hogsmeade. He guessed they were both trying, even if they didn’t know they were. Maybe Potter was trying a bit more than Draco, but whatever. It wasn’t Draco’s place to offer to _walk in together_ to Potter. Potter was the noble hero whose job was to be kind to everyone, even if that included, well, a person like Draco.

“Okay. Fine,” Draco said as he turned back around to face the fire. “Now, let’s get ready for bed, I’m tired and- ah!” Draco’s hand immediately tightened around his left forearm. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._ _This was not happening right now._ But it was. The pain worsened every second and he had to strongly suppress himself from ripping his arm off right in front of Potter. His mind kept circling around the thought that the Dark Lord was back and enraged beyond belief. 

“Malfoy?” Potter’s voice was laced with confusion.

Draco dropped his arm reluctantly and hurried over towards the door which he really, really hoped led to a bathroom. He ignored Potter’s comments of concern, and threw the door open, which revealed a generous sized bathroom. At least one thing had gone right that day. 

He hastily locked the bathroom and yanked up his sleeve, and not to his surprise, the skull and snake was jutting profusely out of his arm and moving angrily. 

He instantly ran over to the toilet, and started dry heaving into it. It was all a lot to take in. He had hoped the Mark would have stopped _being alive_ by now, but he had been wrong. It had only hurt the slightest amount at Hogsmeade, but he had ignored it then, focusing on the mission at hand. But now he had nothing to occupy his mind, and worse, nothing to occupy Potter’s mind, so he would surely wonder why Draco had sprinted to the bathroom.

After he finished dry heaving, he sat against the wall, and his eyes moved to stare at his Mark once again. The cut that had been there was now almost completely healed, save for the faintest sight of a scar, that was hardly recognizable due to all the other scars around the same area. 

He just wanted the damn thing gone. More than ever now. He didn’t want to have to keep looking at it every time it started burning. He had stared into the eyes of the skull more times that past week than he had any other times that school year. 

He blinked away the tears that were starting to form in his eyes, and pulled back down his sleeve. He was not going to spend the next however many days wallowing in self-pity over his moving Mark with Potter present. He would ignore the burning as much as he could, and not let Potter see his pain. He wouldn’t look at it at all, because that just brought horrible thoughts about harming himself back to the front of his mind, and he wasn’t going down that dark road again. 

It was probably just some side effect of being Marked, that was all. All the former Death Eaters were probably feeling the same sort of pain that Draco was feeling, though it might be easier to see if his predictions were correct if another Death Eater were present, or if Draco could write a note to his father in Azkaban. Maybe what he and Potter should start working on was trying to break the barrier spell so they could send letters. Draco knew Potter would never go for that though. He would want to focus on saving the people, not saving themselves.

Draco sighed to himself, and got off the floor. 

“Malfoy? Are you alright?” Potter asked from right outside the door. 

“It’s nothing that would concern you, I promise.”

“If we’re going to be stuck with each other for Merlin knows how long, tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

Potter was so fucking insistent with everything. Why out of all people in Hogwarts did Draco have to be stuck with the most annoying, insistent ponce? But Draco knew he had to say something, or at least something a lot more than “Nothing” and “I’m fine.” He settled with telling Potter something a bit personal, even though it was a lie, but he knew Potter would believe it and it would get him off his back. “Okay, the truth is, being in the Room of Requirement is a bit… much. I’m sort of having, I don’t know, flashbacks? To all the times I’ve been in here,” Draco said.

“Oh, wow okay I did not expect you to comply so easily. Well, er- I’m sorry about that. I guess I’ll just leave you then.” Draco heard Potter walk away from the door, and he was so relieved Potter had just _left_. No other questions asked. 

Draco got ready for bed, thankful that the Room of Requirement gave him everything he might possibly need. Even the pyjamas it had provided were top quality, they were like the ones he had at The Manor; silk and the color of deep green. 

When he opened the door, the lights had been dimmed in the room, and the fire was put out. There was a Potter sized lump on the bed that was adorned with red sheets and blankets. Draco could see that Potter had left his glasses next to his wand on the small table beside his bed, and Draco briefly wondered what Potter would look like without his glasses covering up his face. Probably even more git-like than usual.

Draco crawled into the Slytherin green bed, wrapping himself up in the blankets, and blistering in the fact that he didn’t have to sleep in the uncomfortable hospital bed for any more nights. His chest ached with relief that he was finally resting and not up and walking. He closed his eyes, and listened to Potter’s light breathing as he drifted to sleep.

\---

_Draco was back in the same room. It looked exactly as it did the last time; covered in spiderwebs, and light seeping through huge broken windows. The same eerie feeling overcame Draco, and he shivered, even though it wasn’t really that cold._

_The hooded figure was facing him, his back towards one of the windows. Draco didn’t move. He also didn’t even try to speak this time. He knew it would have been useless. He let the figure slowly walk towards himself, and tried to catch a glimpse of the man under the hood. He didn’t have any luck. The figure was safely covered, and Draco knew he would actually have to walk towards the figure and pull the hood off to see his face. But he was too afraid to move. And why did he have to move? The figure was getting closer and closer and…_

_“Thirteen.” The figure spoke._

_Thirteen. Was the figure counting down to something? Last time he had told Draco, ‘two weeks’. Fourteen days. One day had gone by. That made thirteen days._

_“Thirteen days.”_

_Draco wanted to scream at him to fucking elaborate._

_“You have thirteen days, Draco Malfoy.”_

_Draco stopped breathing for a second. The figure knew his name. How?_

_“They will all stay asleep. Thirteen days, Draco Malfoy, thirteen days and they-” The voice became muffled. It sounded like he was talking under water. The figure was trying to say something important, but what?_

“Malfoy. Malfoy! Wake up!” The figure was screaming his name. But no, that wasn’t right. He smelled soap and sweets, and the hooded figure surely didn’t smell that nice. “Malfoy!”

Potter was standing beside Draco’s bed. His hair was wet and a few drops of water clung to his eyebrows. He definitely just got out of the shower. He was wearing Muggle jeans and a plain red t-shirt. He was also wearing some sort of necklace, however Draco couldn’t see exactly what was on the end of the necklace, since the chain was under his shirt.

“You were making noises, you sounded like you were in pain. I thought you might have been having a nightmare,” Potter said. “I know how those feel like. I didn’t think it would have been fair if I was awake and watching you suffer, so I thought I should wake you-”

“Stop rambling, Potter. I’m fine. It- it wasn’t a nightmare.” Draco said. He sat farther up in bed, pulling the blankets up with him. Should he tell Potter about his dream? No, it was definitely some sort of vision-message thing. Not really a dream at all. He was sure of it this time. He could remember the difference now between whatever the vision was, and a genuine real dream. Maybe he couldn’t tell the other morning, after he had the first vision, because he had been drugged on potions thanks to Madame Pomfrey, before he had slept. 

He decided since he had already told Potter about his first vision, it wouldn’t do him any harm by telling him about the one he had just had. “I had this vision? It was weird. Remember how I told you about my dream that I had where I was in a weird room and there was this hooded figure who told me, ‘two weeks’?” Potter nodded his head carefully. “Well, I had the same dream just now. Except I’m pretty sure it was some sort of message. Not really a dream at all. It was all the same, but this time the figure in the room said my _name._ Like actually said, ‘Draco Malfoy.’”

“Wow. Okay, so you’re sure this wasn’t a dream?” Potter asked.

“ _Yes._ And the exact words the figure said were, ‘They will all stay asleep. Thirteen days, Draco Malfoy, thirteen days and they-’ and then the person cut off. He was still talking, but it was like the message was censored or something and I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I wish I could’ve. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Potter shoved his hands in his pockets and made a noise Draco could only associate with deep thinking. “Do you think he was trying to say we have thirteen days to save everyone from the sleeping curse?”

“Maybe. Or what if it’s a warning? Like thirteen days to save them and then something horrible happens,” Draco suggested.

“Yeah. Yeah that’s a good guess. I think we should assume the worst. Because if we don’t and we don’t save everyone in time and something happens-” Potter took a deep breath- ”I couldn’t live with myself.”

Draco spoke a little more softly, seeing that Potter was clearly heading into a state of distress. “We’ll fix this, Potter. Don’t worry. With my smarts and your recklessness, we should be unstoppable.” Potter laughed. Draco hadn’t meant it to be funny, he was only stating the obvious, but he was glad for Potter’s laugh. “Let’s say we do have thirteen days before something absolutely horrible happens. We figure out a counter spell from some book or whatever to save everyone. Simple. All we have to do is look for the right book. I’m sure we can manage that in thirteen days.”

Potter laughed again. This time Draco was sure he hadn’t said anything funny. “Simple. Yeah. Well, we better get going, then. It would be great if we could find some counter spell or potion sooner rather than later.”

Draco agreed. He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, where he got dressed and ready for the day. His arm was throbbing a bit, but he wouldn’t look at it. He would not obsess over it. It wasn’t worth the energy at the moment.

When Draco stepped out of the bathroom, he found Potter sitting on his bed, eating breakfast. 

“I’m sorry,” Potter said after he finished chewing.

“What are you apologizing for this time, Potter?” Draco sighed as he went to grab something to eat from the tray laid out on the couch. He weirdly had an appetite now; after all of his school days of finding the idea of eating sickening, all it took for him to eat was apparently being trapped in a castle with no one else other than Harry Potter. Ugh.

“I think this is all my fault. Why else would all this be happening? Someone’s trying to get revenge on me for killing Voldemort. The same guy in your vision-thing is most definitely the same guy who cast the sleeping curse, and put up a ward so we can’t leave or contact anyone. This is probably his sick idea of getting back at me. So, I’m sorry you were dragged into this mess with me.”

Draco winced at the mention of _his_ name, and it went unnoticed by Potter. Draco continued to stare at Potter. Why would _Potter_ think that? Draco basically thought the same thing; that someone was trying to get back at _him_ for being on the Dark Lord’s side, and Potter was accidentally pulled along for the ride. “Potter. That’s crazy. It’s not your fault. Don’t think that.”

They didn't bring up the subject again.

\---

“I’m sorry,” Potter said across the table from Draco. Draco rolled his eyes and was about to open his mouth when Potter cut him off. “Before you say anything, I’m apologizing for what’s to come. If we’re going to be sleeping in the same room every night together, you should know that I have pretty bad nightmares. Sometimes I wake up Ron and everyone else in my dorm, and I know it annoys them even though they say otherwise. But, yeah. I just thought I should tell you.”

Draco studied Potter. He was chewing on his bottom lip, and his black hair was falling into his eyes. He acted like it didn’t annoy him, and just let the strands hang there. Draco subconsciously pushed his own hair out of the way, even though it wasn’t even close to covering his eyes like Potter’s hair was.

“Well, then you should know I also have nightmares,” Draco responded. 

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

“But I don’t know if they’re somehow suppressed, or whatever, since I’m now having these visions when I sleep. I haven’t had a nightmare in a while to be honest.”

Potter’s lashes fluttered and his forehead creased. “I haven’t had one in a while either.”

“Alright, then. Maybe your body has just given up on trying to make you miserable,” Draco added.

“Highly doubt that, but it’s a nice thought.”

Potter went back to searching through the book that was in front of him. Draco did the same. They had spent hours in the library, with no such luck finding anything relevant to sleeping curses. Draco thought it was stupid that they hadn’t found anything yet. Surely there had to be books written on sleeping curses or something closely related.

Draco groaned aloud and shut his book with a loud _thud._ The sound made Potter’s head snap up, and he frowned at the book, knowing that Draco had found _nothing_.

“Why don’t you just use silencing charms?” Draco asked Potter.

“What?”

“Silencing charms, you know, around your bed. So then know one can hear you when you have nightmares and make noise.” 

Potter shrugged. 

“You do know you're a wizard, right, Potter?” Draco pointed out, just to make sure Potter did know that.

“Ha ha, yes I do, thank you,” Potter said as he went back to searching through his book. 

Draco was about to start seeking for a new book on the shelves of the library, and maybe try to break into the restricted section, when Potter spoke once again.

“Now it’s my turn to ask a stupid question,” He said. Draco rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, waiting for Potter’s stupid question. “Why are you wearing robes when you could be wearing much more comfortable clothes? No one else is here. I don’t think you have to abide by the dress code.”

Draco looked down at his outfit. He was wearing his usual dress shirt and Slytherin robes. He had thought he’d looked decent in the mirror that morning, but Potter’s comment was starting to make him self-conscious. It was the first outfit that had come to mind and the Room of Requirement had given it to him.

“What’s wrong with it?” Draco questioned.

“I mean nothing, you look… good.” Potter realized what he’d just said, and started blushing. Draco felt his own cheeks start to burn too. Potter, who was Draco’s enemy, before their truce, had said he looked _good._ Maybe Draco was still dreaming. “It’s just that at Hogsmeade you were wearing a Muggle coat and jumper s’all. I didn’t know you owned any Muggle things.”

“Oh.” Draco was still blushing. “Well after Azkaban and before Hogwarts this summer, I got a couple Muggle outfits. I don’t know, I thought they were quite fashionable really.”

Potter slowly blinked at him and openly gaped. It was like Potter was seeing Draco for the first time in a long while.

Maybe he really was.

Draco nor Potter said anything else, so Draco got up to search the shelves. 

When they had left the Room of Requirement that morning, Potter suggested they should check their common rooms to see if anyone was awake. Draco knew Potter was being far too optimistic, but he told him yes, to ease Potter’s mind a bit. He was also trying to be nice. That was what nice people did, right? They sometimes agreed to other people’s suggestions, even when they were stupid. 

Of course no one had been awake. Every single person had been in the same spot as the last time Draco had gone to his common room. 

Potter had waited outside the wall that led to Slytherin, and when Draco had come out, Potter had _smiled_ at him. Actually fucking smiled. Draco didn’t smile back. Yes, he was trying to be nicer to Potter, but that did not include smiling at the git. It never would include smiling at the git.

They had spent the rest of the day in the library searching book after book, sitting at the same table in the same spot, and Draco could tell Potter had been getting more restless as time went on and they still hadn’t found anything. He wanted to insure Potter that it would be fine, they still had plenty more days to search until the two weeks were up. But he didn’t say anything. Now thinking back on it, he wished he had. 

He pulled out a book in the _Dangerous Curses_ section of the library, and already knew it would be another dead end. But he had to do something. He couldn’t just sit around and wait for someone to save them. As Potter had said last night, they were on their own. Well, they were on their own together.

Draco conceded that ‘together’ was starting to sound like such a weird fucking word.

\---

The next morning had been almost exactly like the first. 

Potter and him had breakfast, took showers, and got ready for the lonely day ahead of them separately in the Room of Requirement. Draco had dressed in his Slytherin robes once again, for the lack of another idea as to what to wear, and that time Potter hadn’t commented on his outfit choices. 

The next difference was that Potter hadn’t had to wake Draco up from a nightmare-induced-fit, since Draco had had no such visions when he slept. 

It had really taken Draco by surprise, that he hadn’t had a vision; he’d prepared vigorously before going to bed for another message from the hooded figure. Waking up from a dreamless sleep had been a nice, but certainly odd and suspicious, surprise. Potter also had no nightmares again. He’d told Draco that himself when he asked if Draco had another vision. 

Then the two of them had gone to their respective common rooms to check if anyone had moved, and were not in the least bit shocked to find no one had. They could obviously tell no one else was around just from walking the halls of Hogwarts, but they agreed they should also check their common rooms every morning together, just in case. 

Draco had found Potter’s company pleasantly comforting. Sure, he wouldn’t have been Draco’s first choice in companionship, but he was a lot better of a choice than anyone else in the school. At least Potter didn’t try to hex him every second and call him hurtful names. Though Draco supposed Potter really should be doing all those things. He deserved it after all the years Draco had called Potter and his family horrible names. The prospect that Potter was being nice to him was still unreal, but Draco was starting to like the Potter who was being civil, and _smiled_ at him just because. 

They would probably go back to ignoring each other whenever they could, and insulting each other when they had conversations, after the whole sleeping curse was sorted out. They were only being kind to each other because they needed the other to help save the Wizarding World, and were both smart enough to understand that they would not get anywhere if they fought. They still were not friends. They only called a truce to deal with the crisis laid before them.

“Ugh! This is hopeless,” Potter said as he banged his forehead against a book called _How to Save the Wizarding World._ Draco was pretty sure that book did _not_ know how to save the Wizarding World. Only Potter had completed that task, and Potter had certainly not written that book, unless he wrote it under the alias of Maria Streinburg. 

Draco made a noncommittal grunt from across Potter as he eyed the pile of books Potter had set out on the table. 

“Are you sure we’re even looking in the right subject? Like how are we supposed to know if this _thing_ really is a sleeping curse?” Potter asked as he slightly lifted his head from his book.

“Having hope? I don’t fucking know to be honest. Hope is way too overrated. But I mean the whole I-think-they’re-sleeping theory is better to believe than an I-think-they’re-dead theory. We do know they’re breathing, so there’s that.”

“Yeah, Yeah,” Potter sighed and grabbed a new book from the pile. 

As Draco watched Potter lazily stare at the pages of the book in front of him, he realized he needed to do something other than research counter-curses that weren’t getting them anywhere. 

“Come on, Potter. Stand up,” Draco admonished as he pushed in his own chair and settled a book on defensive spells under his arm.

Potter blinked at him, but complied. He looked extremely tired and full of nothing but dead faith. 

“We are going to do something different than stare at paper all day again. Something actually productive,” Draco said. He took out his wand and held it in his free hand.

“Weren’t you the one to suggest we look in books to solve this curse?” Potter smirked, and Draco felt a little bit of Potter’s happy and hopeful self return back to him. 

“Yes,” Draco agreed. “But that’s beside the point. I am going to help you learn new defensive spells.” He brandished the book he’d tucked under his arm to Potter, who carefully reached out and wrapped his fingers around the spine, taking it from Draco’s grasp.

“How does that have anything to do with the sleeping curse?”

“ _Because_ you need to know how to defend yourself. This whole thing could turn ugly. What if the figure who’s in my visions, cast the sleeping curse, and put up a ward around us, comes to Hogwarts? You need to know more spells than _expelliarmus_ ,” Draco stated.

“I do know other spells. You remember I started The DA in fifth year, right? I seem to recall _you_ busting us and getting us in trouble.” Potter’s tone turned a little defensive when he mentioned his little club, and Draco suddenly felt incredibly guilty.

“Yes, well. There’s always room for improvement. And besides I’m not teaching you. I don’t know any of those spells in that book. I’m just going to assist you in learning them and mastering some.” Draco pointed at the book in Potter’s hand.

“Okay I think I’m missing something here. Aren’t you going to be learning the spells too?”

“Uh.” Draco thought Potter knew about his probation requirements. He didn’t really want to recount them, but he supposed he had no other choice. “I can’t. Learn the defensive spells that is.”

“Yes you can. If I can learn difficult spells, I know you can too.”

Draco’s heart sped at the idea that Potter was implying he was a talented wizard. That was what Potter was implying, right? “No, I physically cannot cast defensive spells. It’s- it’s part of my probation.” Draco looked down at his hands. “If I so much as start to cast any type of defensive spell, a shock of magic will spread up my arm and the Ministry will be notified.”

“Oh, shit. I never knew. I’m-”

“Don’t say your sorry. It’s not your fault. I did this to myself, Potter.” 

“But I don’t think it really matters now. The Ministry is probably under the same curse Hogwarts is under. They would never know.”

“We don’t know that for sure. They could all very much be up and awake and have no fucking clue as to what’s going on here. I don’t want to take any chances. If someone put up that ward around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade that doesn’t let anything through, they’re probably trying to keep us from contacting anyone. We discussed this, remember?” 

“Yeah. Okay, I’ll learn some new spells. But after a couple days practicing these, we go back to looking through books. Alright?”

“Alright,” Draco said.

“Merlin, I hope everyone outside the Hogwarts area is alright. I can’t imagine the Weasley’s or just anyone having to go through this without knowing that they’re under some curse,” Potter added.

“Yeah.” Draco had thought of his mother almost constantly. He hoped she was alright. 

“But, we should get started. The sun is almost setting.”

They laid out the book on defensive spells on top of the table they had been occupying, and started skimming through pages trying to find spells that seemed useful in a showdown.

They found quite a lot of spells worth learning, such as _fumos:_ creating a cloud of smoke, _cave inimicum:_ keeping enemies away, _depulso:_ to move a target away, _colloshoo:_ to make a target’s shoes stick to the ground, _ebublio:_ to trap a target in a large bubble, and Draco’s personal favorite, _deletrius:_ to cause a target to disintegrate. 

Draco told Potter to start with _deletrius;_ since it seemed the most effective and worthwhile trying to master.

The rest of the night, Draco called out suggestions to Potter that he thought might help him cast the spell correctly. Potter practiced the spell on several chairs, and had no such luck disintegrating any of them. Draco hoped he would have had more luck had _he_ been the one casting, but he knew he wouldn’t have. 

Around eleven o’clock, Potter said that they should go back to the Room of Requirement, and Draco agreed. Even though he hadn’t been the one practicing magic, he still felt exhausted. 

“Thanks for helping me today,” Potter said as they made their way to the seventh floor.

“No problem, I guess. I was the one who suggested it in the first place. You didn’t have to go along with it.”

“Yeah but it was a good idea. It’s good to be prepared for a fight. Not that I think some scary figure _is_ going to come to Hogwarts, but I felt like today was a lot more productive than yesterday; I feel more prepared. Even if I didn’t figure out how to cast the spell yet.”

“You’ll get it. I know you will,” Draco said easily. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Potter smiled at him. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

\---

“You got this. Just try again,” Draco shouted from his seat as he thumbed through a book on dragons.

He was utterly bored out of his mind watching Potter cast the same spell over and over again, so to occupy himself, he found a children's book on dragons and started looking through it. Potter did not approve of his book, yelling at Draco to help him learn the _deletrius_ charm.

Potter had been trying to master the spell for the last six hours. At first Draco had been more than happy to help Potter learn the spell, but after the first two hours, he had lost interest. He knew he should have been helping, but Potter was _helpless_. Even though he had said so otherwise yesterday, he now thought the charm did not seem that hard. Draco had read everything there was to know about it in the defensive spells book he had found it in. He was tempted to try it out himself and show Potter how easy it was, but he was certainly not tempted to risk his probation. 

They now had eleven days until the two weeks were up, and Draco could tell Potter was getting extremely restless and irritated that nothing had gone right so far. But that seemed to motivate Potter to work extra hard on spell casting. Draco admired Potter’s work ethic, and decided to marvel at it from afar, reading a book on dragons. Because really, he and Potter both knew Draco was absolutely no help since he couldn’t actually cast the spell alongside Potter. Throwing out random suggestions could only go so far.

Day four of trying to save the world started off just like day three. Literally exactly the same. Draco woke up with no visions that night. Potter had no nightmares. They took showers, got dressed, and ate breakfast in the Room of Requirement before making their pit stop to the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms, where they observed no one had moved a muscle. The discovery had been outstandingly shocking.

Draco could tell Potter’s optimism was wearing down, and that made the small ounce of his own optimism wither away completely. 

“I’m beginning to think I absolutely am not capable of casting this charm,” Potter said as he sat down on the chair he had been trying to disintegrate, pushing away a lock of hair from his forehead.

“You have it in you, Potter.” Draco lied. Well, Potter might have it in him somewhere. Somewhere very deep that could never be unlocked, that was.

“Thanks for your false words of encouragement, Malfoy.”

“Mhm.” Draco closed the book on dragons, and reached for a book on fairies. 

“Maybe I should try casting a different spell. Maybe this one is really old and outdated, so it just doesn’t work anymore. The one where you trap your opponent in a bubble sounded pretty cool.” Potter twirled his wand with his hand, keeping his gaze focused intently on the movement.

“Yeah, do that one,” Draco said as his attention moved completely to the sparkly light pink book that had actual _wings_ coming out of the back. 

“Ugh! I just-” Something exploded. 

Draco immediately perked up at the loud _bang_ that came from the other side of the library. Potter was frozen in place as his line of sight went to the far corner. The corner was now surrounded in smoke, and the smell of burnt wood traveled over to Draco. 

“I didn't mean to do that. I swear. I just pointed my wand at the corner and I guess excess magic shot out of it, doing _that_.” Potter pointed at the smoke.

“Wait it looks like there's something over there. Do you see that shimmer of light?” Draco asked as he walked over to the explosion. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Potter following him.

When he reached the smokey area, he waved away as much of the fumes as he could, and stared down at the floor. He heard a faint gasp coming from beside him, which could only be Potter, and he knew exactly what he was gasping at. 

There was a hatch in the ground. An outline of a square shown in the wood, and a shimmery handle was smack in the middle of it. 

“Whoa,” Draco said.

“Whoa is right.”

“Should we… open it?”

“Hell yeah we should,” Potter exclaimed as he bent down to open the hatch. Reckless Gryffindor.

Potter pulled up the handle, and the hatch came loose so that Potter could physically pick up the square plank of wood and move it aside. Draco peered over Potter’s shoulder, and inside the hidden compartment he could see a book. A dusty, old, leather book that was about the size of Draco’s hand. 

Potter picked it up, and started flipping it over- front and back- countless times before handing it over to Draco. Draco opened the inside of the book to the back of the cover page, to see if someone had written anything in it, and was delightfully surprised to find someone had. 

In barely legible cursive, the name: The Half Blood Prince, was scrawled.

Potter gasped once again from beside Draco, and snatched the book out of his hands.

“What? What is it? Who’s The Half Blood Prince? Potter _tell me_ ,” Draco said impatiently.

“It’s- it’s. It’s Snape.” Potter's voice softened to a whisper so that Draco had to strain himself to hear properly.

“Snape,” Draco said unsurely.

“Yeah. Snape.” Potter turned to face Draco straight on. “Look at the cover, it says ‘The Hearts’ Deepest Secret Will Uncover More Than What You Seek.’” His finger pointed to the words as he said them aloud.

“That’s great. But what does it mean? And how does this book hold anything useful to us?”

“There’s only one way to find out. We have to talk to the man who wrote the book.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is like extremely boring and nothing really interesting happens until the very end. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be way more eventful and something substantial is going to happen, I'm so freaking excited to write it. Not a kiss yet. They still have to get to know each other better and stuff. But we're working towards that I promise :)
> 
> Please let me know what you think of the story so far, I really appreciate any type of feedback <3


	7. Confidential Realities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets & trust.

After a long and tiring discussion of whether or not he and Potter should go to Snape’s portrait the very moment they found the book or the next day; they’d finally decided on making the trip to the Headmistresses’ office the next day, which was a Thursday.

Potter of course had been the one saying they should go see him that very day, since he didn’t want to waste anymore time sitting around doing nothing. Draco had to reason with him that it was getting really late and they- which meant Potter- had been working hard on spell casting and needed rest.

Potter had groaned and obviously hadn’t wanted to comply, but he eventually did.

Draco had gone to bed with his arm burning horribly, and had to hide his discomfort from Potter which proved to be extremely hard, since the git was nosey about every single little thing. 

He’d woken up with absolutely no visions, once again, and had been exceedingly angry and relieved all at once. He’d kept thinking of reasons why the visions could have stopped. It made him nervous that he hadn’t had one in a while, it made him think something awful was coming their way shortly. On the other hand, he thought it could have been a sign things were looking up and nothing that serious was going on in Hogwarts after all. The latter thought however had been debunked in his mind, since his Mark still burnt furiously Wednesday night and Thursday morning. 

Potter apparently had a nightmare that very night though, while Draco had slept soundly. He hadn’t woken Draco up, and Potter never exactly told him he’d had one, but Draco assumed as much due to Potter’s shaky and closed off composure as he got ready for the day.

Draco wasn’t going to ask Potter about his nightmare. He knew Potter would have asked Draco had the situation been switched, but Draco wasn’t the type of person to ask such personal questions that would lead to heartfelt and emotional answers. Potter definitely was that type of person.

Potter was now walking quietly beside Draco as they made their way to McGonagall’s office, Snape’s book clutched tightly in his hand. Draco didn’t quite know whether or not he liked this Potter who was silent and kept to himself, rather than talk to Draco about pointless subjects.

As they made their way through the empty halls of Hogwarts, Draco realized his chest felt immensely better. He hadn’t done too much walking ever since his and Potter’s fateful night in Hogsmeade, and he had been eating and sleeping pretty decently the past couple days, so he guessed it made sense that his injuries healed on their own and didn’t need any extra care from Madame Pomfrey. Well, he didn’t know for sure if starting to actually take care of himself helped him heal, but he liked to think it had. 

“Well, we’re here,” Potter said as they arrived at the gargoyle signifying the entrance to McGonagall’s office.

“Wow, no kidding,” Draco responded with what he hoped was a substantial amount of sarcasm, to try and get some sort of reaction out of Potter. Anything other than the sad, emotionless statue of a man that was standing before him.

Potter slightly frowned at Draco, and moved aside, notifying for Draco to go ahead into the office first. 

“Wait, we don’t even know the password.” Draco added glumly as he was about to try and surpass the gargoyle. Besides the fact that they quite literally couldn’t get into the office without a passcode, he knew he was stalling. He was terrified to see his former headmaster’s portrait hanging in the room.

Dumbledore could very likely be under the same sleeping curse as everyone else, since all of the other portraits he and Potter passed were sound asleep in their frames, so he knew he might not have to worry about seeing Dumbledore at all. But if Dumbledore was under the curse that meant Snape was too, and they wouldn’t be able to ask him about the book they had found. Draco didn’t know which situation was worse; seeing and talking to the man he had almost killed, or finding that same man, along with Draco’s former mentor asleep, providing no information on the mysterious book.

“Let me try,” Potter said as he stepped up to the gargoyle. “Crumpets.”

The statue miraculously moved and revealed a spiral staircase. Draco looked skeptically between Potter and the newly-revealed entranceway. “Crumpets? How did you-”

“I visit McGonagall on occasion just to chat with her about… things. It was the password the last time I visited her, so,” Potter shrugged and backed away from the opening, now standing behind Draco.

“Why crumpets? That’s so _odd_.”

“I don’t fucking know why don’t you ask her yourself!” Potter chided.

“Whoa. What happened to being nice to each other?” Draco asked. He was genuinely concerned for Potter at the moment. He seemed tired and full of irritability.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.” Potter rubbed his palms across his face, lifting up his glasses in the process.

Draco nodded and turned back towards the gargoyle. Was he really doing this? Was he really going to have to face Dumbledore? At least Potter would be there with him to ease the tension, but still.

“You go ahead, I’ll stay here,” Potter said as he handed Snape’s book to him.

 _What?_ “What?” Draco said uneasily. He grabbed the worn-out book from Potter hesitantly.

“You always had a good relationship with him. I think he’ll tell you more if it’s just you in the room with him.”

“Yeah, but-” Draco bit his lip.

“You’ll be fine. And if he’s not awake just come back down and we’ll figure something else out,” Potter said calmly. Like he hadn’t just had a bout of unprecedented anger.

“Alright. But if something happens to me or you while we’re split up, I’m going to blame it _all_ on you. Got it?” 

“Got it.”

“Okay, then,” Draco swallowed. He mustered up all the courage he could find in himself, and stepped onto the spiral staircase.

Once he reached the top, he tried the door handle leading to the office, and found that it was open. He sucked in a breath, and pushed the door inward, walking into a spacious and neatly decorated office that was definitely suitable for a headmaster, or headmistress.

His eyes immediately fell on two large portraits hanging high above the chair that McGonagall would surely have been sitting in if she were awake. He immediately locked eyes with Severus Snape, forcing himself not to look at the portrait next to Snape's that contained Albus Dumbledore, who was surely gazing down at him with contempt.

“Draco. How lovely to see you,” Snape said as he watched Draco step closer to his portrait.

“Hi, Professor.” His hands were starting to become extremely sweaty, but he refused to wipe them on his robes, which would clearly show the two former headmasters how nervous he was, if they couldn’t already tell.

“What brings you in here on this fine morning?” Snape asked as he crossed his arms in front of him.

“I have a question,” Draco said, “For you.” He added at the last second so they both would know the question was only directed at Snape. And so that Dumbledore might possibly get the hint that Draco didn’t want him to talk. Not because he disliked Dumbledore, but because Draco was still severely ashamed of himself, and wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with him without having an anxiety attack.

“Alright,” Snape said.

“Well, we- as in Potter and I- found this book of yours.” He held out the book so that Snape could see the front cover, and he nodded his head. “I was wondering if you could tell me what the writing on the cover meant.”

He realized just then that Snape was _awake_. How was that possible? That seemed like the first and most obvious question he should have asked as he walked in.

Snape squinted slightly, like he was trying to read the words on the cover. “Ah, yes. That book. I remember it quite well. One of my finer achievements. You said you and Potter found it, yes?”

“Yes. And, excuse me for changing topics, but how are you awake? All of the other portraits are asleep. Oh, wait. Shit. Do you even know what’s going on in Hogwarts?” Draco’s mind was moving too fast, and he could hardly catch up with his own thoughts. He barely realized he had cursed in Snape and Dumbledore’s presence, but it didn’t seem to bother them, luckily.

“We know the gist of what is going on, yes. We cannot move out of our portraits, and I sense a magical presence around Hogwarts that I have not felt before,” Snape said.

“There’s this ward that goes around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and anything that goes through it immediately disintegrates,” Draco added.

“Hmm. Interesting.”

“Yeah. And everyone in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade is asleep. As in no one is moving, and haven’t moved since Saturday night. But they’re all breathing so I am pretty certain no one is dead.”

“No one’s awake, except you and Potter, I gather.”

“Except Potter and I,” Draco agreed. 

“Well to answer your question, Albus and I have a protection charm placed on our portraits. No curse or hex or any means of dark magic can harm us. Others encased in frames are not so lucky.” Snape turned his head to look at his neighboring portraits; all sound asleep. “We were curious as to what exactly was going on. When we found out we couldn’t move to other portraits inside the castle or out, we knew something was terribly wrong. When Minerva hadn’t arrived at her office for days, our suspicions were mostly confirmed.” Snape returned his gaze back to Draco. “But thank you for coming in here, Draco. Even though our worst intuitions are now confirmed, I am glad we now know what exactly is going on out in the world.” There was the faintest of smiles on Snape’s face. 

“Uh, no problem.” Draco wanted to tell Snape the only reason he had ventured into the Headmistress’s office was to get information on the book, and not to check on the portraits' well-being, but he decided against it. “So, um, about the book.” He waved the book out in front of him.

“‘The Hearts’ Deepest Secret Will Uncover More Than What You Seek,’” Snape recited the words on the cover. “Isn’t it obvious what it means?” 

No it was not. “Uh,” Is all Draco said.

“You and whoever else is present when you want to open the book must each reveal a secret. The secret must be meaningful, and must be something you would not wish to ever say to anyone. Once everyone says their secrets aloud to the book, the book will provide you with whatever you seek.”

Oh. Well that was pretty fucking convenient. 

Potter had literally caused an explosion in the exact right area of the library, which made the secret hatch in the floor apparent to them, and inside the hatch held a useful book that could literally solve all of their problems. Draco didn’t want to say he was an extremely lucky bloke, but yeah, he definitely was an extremely lucky bloke. 

So what they had to reveal some sort of secret. How was the book supposed to know what was inside their brain? How did Snape _make_ a book that could tell if you were really telling your deepest secret? He and Potter would most likely find a spell that could just open the damn book and tell them what counter-curse is needed to break the sleeping spell without having to expose a secret at all. And on top of that, they could break the barrier spell too.

“There is a catch however,” Snape drawled. Draco groaned, because of course there was. “The book only provides you with information that is already out in the world. It cannot create a counter-spell or new kind of charm, it can only find you what already exists.”

“Oh. Well that isn’t too bad of a catch,” Draco said. He was sure there had to be a counter-curse for whatever Hogwarts was under. “So basically, once Potter and I reveal a secret to the book, it will allow us to ask it whatever we want, and if whatever we ask it already exists in the Wizarding World, it will show it to us on its pages?”

“Yes, indeed. However there is a limit to how many questions you may ask it.”

“Seriously?”

“I am afraid all magic has its limits. And when I created the book in my youth, I could not figure out the spell to make the questions infinite. So, the limit is only three.”

“I can only ask it three questions?”

“That is what I said, yes.”

“But since Potter is with me, he can ask it three questions too, right? I can ask three and he can ask three.”

Snape stared at Draco, his expression was of the exasperated sort. “No. The book senses how many people are around. The group in total gets only three.”

Draco was wide-eyed as he looked from Snape to the book still clutched in his hand. “How does it know how many people are around it though? This doesn’t make sense. Why can’t you have just made it easy.”

“Draco, may I remind you I was a teenager when creating that book. Yes, I was talented at creating spells and what not, but I did not know all the secrets of the universe. I still do not. And I’m sure you don’t need more than three spells.”

Snape was right, he only needed a counter-curse for two things. He wouldn’t need more than three, but he was still a bit irritated at the limitations. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” He said. “Thank you for your answers.”

“You’re quite welcome.” The faint smile that had been replaced with annoyance was now back on Snape’s face, and Draco was glad of it.

He nodded his head towards Snape, and was about to turn and make his way out of the office and down to where he hoped Potter was still standing when he heard Dumbledore’s voice echo throughout the room. “Draco, it is good to see you.” His eyes sparkled from behind his half-moon glasses. Draco had always wondered how his eyes did that. He still wondered to this moment.

Draco was speechless. His hands began to feel sweaty again, and the room felt extremely hot. How could it be _good_ to see him? Dumbledore _did_ remember how Draco openly said terrible things about what the former headmaster believed in and supported, and of course how Draco had almost fucking murdered him, right? 

“H- hello, Professor,” Draco finally managed to spit out. He couldn't make eye-contact with Dumbledore, so he just settled for looking at the blank patch of wall between the two former headmaster’s portraits.

“Draco, is there anything else you wish to tell us?” Dumbledore asked politely. He had this knowing look that Draco hated. 

Draco hadn’t really thought of anything else he wanted to say, but now that Dumbledore mentioned it, he did want to mention to Snape that his Mark had started moving again. He knew Snape would understand how he was feeling, seeing it come alive again; he also had the cursed tattoo. He wondered whether Snape's portrait had the Mark. Probably. He wanted to ask if his scar had started moving again too, but he didn’t want to ask in front of Dumbledore.

Draco shook his head and swallowed, eyes once again reaching everywhere except Dumbledore’s face.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. “If you ever wish to talk to me or Severus- to both of us, you are always welcome too. I hope you know that.” 

“Yes, Professor,” Draco said shakily. He turned on his feet, and hurriedly stalked out of the office, shutting the door and willing himself not to break down.

\---

Potter was sitting with his back against a wall when Draco got to the bottom of the steps and passed by the gargoyle. He seemed to be in a slightly better mood than the one he was in before; he was humming some song and tapping his foot to the beat, and Draco almost laughed and smiled at the vulnerability and human side Potter was showing.

Potter perked up even more when he saw Draco, and quickly jumped to his feet. “I’m guessing by the amount of time that went by, Snape was awake?”

“Yep,” Draco said as he handed Snape’s book back to Potter, like it was some known agreement Potter was the rightful owner of the book. He then recited everything Snape had told him about the book to Potter, who nodded his head and looked extremely excited at the amount of luck they had for procuring the book in the first place. 

If Draco had been the one to accidentally find the hatch that led to the book, he would have boasted about how lucky Potter was to have him around. But Potter did none of that, he didn’t say anything self-righteous, which honestly made Draco have a lot more respect towards him.

Potter did however pull a frown when Draco got to the limitations of the books’ powers. “We just have to use our questions wisely,” Potter said.

Draco thought that much was obvious. Of course they had to be careful, and make sure that they spoke the right words, not making the book confused as to what they were asking it. 

Draco was about to tell Potter they should head straight to their usual spot in the library when he grabbed Draco’s elbow, stopping him in his tracks. The contact sent a chill throughout Draco, and he was startled at Potter’s nearness. 

“I trust you. Or, I’m beginning to learn to trust you. I would like to believe you wouldn’t lie to me, especially when we’re the only two people around,” Potter said.

“What is this about, Potter?” Draco sighed.

“It’s just, I know we’re not exactly friends. But if there’s something else Snape said, or you had another one of your visions, or you found- I don’t know, a secret room somewhere that could possibly help us out, you’d tell me, right?” Potter looked directly at him. His eyes huge behind his glasses and his eyebrows furrowed.

Draco’s answer was complicated. Yes, of course he would tell Potter if he had another vision while he slept. Yes, he would tell Potter if he randomly found some secret room. No, he would not, and would never tell Potter about his Mark. “Yes, Potter. I won’t hold anything back,” Draco lied. To some extent.

Potter smiled at him. “If I find out something new, I’ll make sure to tell you too.”

“Great.”

“Okay then, let’s get going.”

\---

They were both crowded around and leaning over the open book, at their usual spot in the library. The book’s pages were blank, no words or pictures to indicate how special it truly was.

“I guess we just say a secret,” Potter stated. They were close enough to each other that Draco could slightly feel Potter’s breath on his face, and the feeling made his skin tingle.

“Yep,” Draco responded.

“So,” Potter coughed. “Hermione usually scolds me when I eat too much treacle tart. So around her I only have one or two. But sometimes when she isn’t looking, I grab extra. Or I go to the kitchens and the house elves give me some more.”

Draco snorted. “Potter you are truly a travesty.” 

“Yeah, well,” Potter laughed.

“Okay I guess it’s my turn. Let’s see here.” Draco contemplated what he wanted to say in Potter’s presence. They had both agreed that the whole ‘deepest, darkest secret’ thing was all a ruse. A book could not possibly dictate between what was a little white lie, and what was a monumental, Earth-shattering secret. Especially a book made by a teenager. “Alright I have one. This year, probably in October, I was in the library finishing up a paper for Arithmancy, and this group of Sixth Years came out of nowhere, obliterating my paper to nothingness.

“The paper was due the next day, and I had spent days writing the paper; I did not want to rewrite it. So next day in class when Professor Vector was collecting our assignments, I told her I had already handed mine in a couple days previous. It wasn’t hard to believe. I usually get my work done early. All she said was a quick little, ‘Oh,’ and scurried off. She’s terrified of me and I don’t think she wanted to spend more time talking to me than she had to, so she never even brought it up again. I’m pretty sure she gave me an O for the paper, and I never had to complete that assignment.”

Potter looked astonished. “Wow, your secret certainly beats mine.”

“I agree.” They both laughed.

“Alright, let’s see if it worked,” Potter said as their eyes traveled down to the pages of the book. “Book, please reveal to us some sort of counter-curse that will safely return people who are in a cursed state, back to their normal non-cursed selves.”

The pages were blank.

Draco flipped through the book, hoping one of the pages would provide them with some sort of answer, but they were all a blank slate.

“So I’m guessing our secrets weren’t deep enough, or whatever,” Potter offered up.

“No. No, it should have _worked_. Snape was lying. That’s it. He didn’t tell us everything-”

“Malfoy, I don’t think Snape would lie to you, do you? If we have to share an extremely personal secret, so be it. I think it will be worth sharing if it means we’ll get an answer on how to solve the curse.”

“Let’s just try some other way. There has to be some charm that will get this bloody book to work.”

“Malfoy-”

“Potter, please. Let’s just- find another way.” 

“Fine. Whatever. But if you waste our day because you don’t want to offer up a secret of yours, I will be _pissed_.” Potter got up from his seat, and started browsing the shelves, looking for what Draco hoped was a book that could break whatever enchantment Snape placed on his mysterious book.

Draco wanted to offer up a secret of his, he really did if it meant it would save everyone in the end, but the only deep, dark secret he could think of was his moving Mark, which he most certainly would not offer up.

So much for earning Potter’s trust.

\---

In the end, it did turn out that Draco had wasted their precious, limited time. Was he surprised that had happened? Honestly, not really.

Potter had been telling the truth, he’d been absolutely pissed with Draco. He had shouted obscenities at Draco, at the ceiling, at quills, at the books, and literally everything he could find.

Draco had to admit, he felt guilty. He didn’t want to feel guilty, but he did. 

They had spent the rest of their day in the library searching through books, much like their previous days, except that time they were looking for a different type of counter-spell. After they had tried countless charms on Snape’s book, and the wretched thing had deflected each of them, they had moved on to spilling secrets again. They took turns saying anything that came to their mind. After a while, Potter’s secrets got a bit more deep, and Draco’s stayed at the same level of a tiny fib.

Then they took a break, a break which Draco had suggested since he noticed Potter had been getting uncomfortably angry. They took an hour long walk to where the ward met the ground, just to check that the ward was still up. Once again, Potter threw a rock at the ward, and it disintegrated. They had both sighed and glanced miserably at each other before making the walk back to the library.

It had been late at night and Draco had been exhausted, so Potter reluctantly agreed they should head to the Room of Requirement.

The next day was a Friday, and that meant it was getting even closer than Draco’s liking to the one week check point that marked the day he had woken up to a school full of sleeping bodies. And that meant he and Potter only had one week until something surely terrible happened. 

Draco watched Potter breath softly in his sleep as he lay in his own bed, having trouble falling asleep himself even though he was fatigued. 

His arm was sending bolts of pain throughout his body, and it took a large amount of energy out of him to not cut off the dreadful tattoo, and if that wouldn’t work, yank off his entire arm. 

Potter had it easy. Sure, maybe he was plagued with all the deaths that happened in the war, and maybe he felt everything that had happened over the past couple of years was his fault, but at least he didn’t have to deal with a reminder of all his past mistakes etched onto his skin. Potter’s scar was a trophy of his heroism and bravery. Even if he did receive the damn thing when he was a baby.

Draco would never have any scars remotely alike to that.

\---

“I’ll do it,” Draco said confidently.

“You’ll what now?” Potter looked concerned.

“I’ll spill a ‘deep, and meaningful’ secret. If that’s what’ll get you to stop moping.”

Potter was taken aback. “I’m not _moping_.”

“Mhm. And I’m the queen.”

“Ugh. Okay, whatever. Let’s do this.”

Potter had pointedly not spoken to Draco since the moment they had woken up Friday morning. Draco was sure Potter was upset with him due to Draco wasting their day yesterday. 

He’d decided as they’d made their morning rounds to the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms that he would give in and tell the book a meaningful secret. He didn’t know what secret he would tell, but he told himself he’d figure it out when the time came. He’d wanted to tell Potter his decision right then as he made it, but couldn’t seem to form the right words. So here they were now, about an hour into their research session, finally confessing he was ready to tell a secret.

The look Potter gave him when Draco said he’d do it, made him realize he’d made the right choice. Seeing Potter full of glee again made his insides all fuzzy, for reasons he didn’t care to think about.

It also meant Potter would most likely trust him again. 

On top of Potter being upset with him for squandering their Thursday, he knew the other boy was perturbed that Thursday morning Draco had specifically told Potter he wouldn’t keep secrets from him, and then that same day Draco had made very clear he hadn’t wanted to reveal a meaningful secret to Snape’s book. He was sure that made Potter collect doubt that Draco wasn’t keeping anything to himself. The doubt was rightfully placed, since Draco _was_ keeping a secret, but that didn’t matter.

Potter opened the book to one of its many blank pages and placed it in between them.

Draco glanced skeptically down at the book, faced with the reality of not wanting to have to reveal something so confidential, but wanting to earn Potter’s trust back at the same time.

“I’ll go first,” Potter volunteered. Thank Merlin he offered to go first, since Draco was still having trouble thinking of something to share. “I’m not sure if I should repeat something I already told the book or if I have to say something new, but I’d rather be safe, so I guess I’ll come up with a new secret.”

“Okay,” Draco said.

“I don’t think you would, but can you please keep this to yourself? What I’m about to say. I wouldn’t want the press to find out.”

“I promise I’ll keep whatever dirty little secret that comes out of your mouth to myself.”

“Thanks,” Potter took a deep breath, “Here we go. I’m not exactly sure if this counts as a secret, but we’ll see.” Draco waited in anticipation as Potter took a couple more breaths. “I’m not okay.” Draco wanted to laugh at how _not_ a secret that was, but he didn’t. Potter continued, “What I mean is, everyone expects me to be okay, but I’m not. I don’t know if I ever will be. I haven’t come to terms with what happened with the war. It’s all too much. I look around the school, and I just have, flashbacks, or whatever, to everything that transpired here last May.

“I look around the school and I see everyone smiling and laughing and having a good time, and I don’t know if it will ever be like that for me again. I’m horrified to think that I got a second chance at a normal year at Hogwarts where I hang out with my friends and do stupid teenager shit, but I can’t take advantage of my second chance because I constantly have panic attacks in the middle of the halls, and feel like I have to go wretch in one of the toilets. It honestly sucks. I just- I want a normal life. But it will- it will never happen. I’m going to be haunted by the war forever. By all the deaths and all the destruction. People tell me it will get better, but I know that’s a lie,” Potter finished, and wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

Draco felt his heart crack. The sight of Potter crying, the sight of the Wizarding World’s savior breaking down in tears, was gut-wrenching. He wanted to do _something_ to console Potter, but he couldn’t think of anything to do that wasn’t awkward or weird. 

He settled with a short pat on the back; the touch slightly startling Potter. It was an extremely quick show of affection, but it made Potter smile a small sad smile, which Draco knew was a win. His eyes were red and puffy, his expression still heartbreakingly sad, but that smile made Draco want to reach out to Potter again. He was about to act on his intention when Potter shifted slightly away in his seat, presumably trying to hide his tears, so Draco’s hand fell to his lap.

“I’m sorry, that was really dumb,” Potter said as he continued to try, and fail, to conceal his tears.

“No it wasn’t,” Draco said evenly. Potter finished wiping away his tears and turned to look at Draco. “That was quite noble of you to share that. Especially to share that with me.”

Potter sniffed. “You think?”

“I do.” Draco smiled. All his suspicions about Potter were now confirmed by the man himself. All the times Draco had watched Potter in the Great Hall, with a distant and depressing look on his face, had been because Potter was still in the stage of grieving for what all had happened during the war. He felt a great amount of sympathy for The Boy Who Lived. 

Draco could sort of relate to what Potter had said. Definitely not on the same level as him, but in the same general area. 

Maybe they were more alike than Draco had originally thought.

“Alright, enough about me. Now it’s your turn,” Potter said. Draco noticed Potter was gradually regaining his usual posture and attitude, which he was glad about.

“Uh. Give me a minute.” Draco bit down on his lip and thought long and hard on what he wanted to reveal. Talking about his Mark was obviously out of the picture. Talking about how he felt sort of the same way Potter felt about living through a war wasn’t going to happen either, mostly because he thought the book wouldn’t accept the same answer twice, but also because he didn’t want Potter to know he felt similar. Not yet at least.

What if it didn’t even work? For all they knew, Snape really could have been lying, or the book could have lost its magic after sitting in some secret compartment for decades. Draco might reveal something extremely personal, and it could end up he told his secret for nothing. 

“Malfoy? It’s been like, three minutes, are you-”

“I’m-” Draco was starting to get aggravated. The room was starting to fill with hot air. Everything was spinning and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.

“Malfoy? What’s-”

“I’m gay.” 

There. He said it. 

He slowly opened his eyes, not wanting to see Potter’s reaction, but also curious as to how he would react, at the same time.

He wasn’t ashamed of who he was. He had accepted himself a long time ago, and it felt silly to dwell on the matter of who he chose to love. He knew his father would never accept him, but his mother might. He hoped his mother would. He technically still could produce an heir, it would be extremely complicated, but it could happen, and he would get to marry a man.

Potter was dumbfounded. “Oh.” Is all he said.

Draco swallowed. “Yeah. Oh.”

He hadn’t exactly meant to tell Potter he was gay, it sort of came out of his mouth without thinking. He never thought straight when he was in the middle of an anxiety attack, so he wasn’t _totally_ surprised he said something he hadn’t planned on saying. He just wished it hadn’t been what sex he was attracted to.

They continued to stare at each other in silence. He was unhappy that they had gone back not knowing what to say to each other.

Potter finally broke the silence. “Book, please reveal to us some sort of counter-curse that will safely return people who are in a cursed state, back to their normal non-cursed selves.”

A bright burst of magic lit up Snape’s book, and they finally broke their eye contact. The book was slightly shaking and words were being inscribed across the blank page that was laid open; it was like an invisible hand was writing the words. The words were written in neat cursive, almost similar to Snape's print, and the color was bright gold. A neat contrast to the faded tan pages.

“Holy shit,” Potter said under his breath.

“Yeah,” Draco responded, just as shocked at what was happening before their eyes. What he and Potter shared _had_ been enough to open the book. At least one good thing came from Draco sharing one of his most precious secrets.

Draco leaned directly over the book, making sure he gave Potter enough room to see the words too. 

_ Restorative Potion: _

_ 2 pinches of Adder’s Fork _

_ 1 Ashwinder egg _

_ 5 roots of Asphodel _

_ 3 cups of Billywig Sting Slime _

_ 1 Bone, crushed lightly _

_ 5 roots of Dandelion _

_ Stir counterclockwise - 1 hour _

_ 2 Fanged Geranium _

_ Griffin Claw - powdered _

_ 2 Horned Slugs _

_ 3 drops of moonseed _

_ Stir clockwise for 15 minutes,  _

_ every 12 hours for 7 days. _

“Wow. This is brilliant. I can’t believe everything’s all right here,” Potter said as they sat back down in their seats.

“I know. We finally have a solution to this whole mess. That is, if the potion works.” Draco continued to read the ingredients over and over. 

Potter nodded in agreement. “I guess we weren’t able to find this antidote because we’d been looking in curses and charms, not potions.”

“You’re right. How could I not have thought to look in potions?” Draco was seriously angry with himself. If he had been in the right headspace, they might have already been able to have the cure ready to use.

“It’s okay, I didn’t think of it either.”

“Well you aren’t an expert at potions, so,” Draco mused.

“Yeah yeah, we know.” Potter gave a soft chuckle. “Listen, I just want you to know, I won’t tell anyone about… you’re secret,” he coughed. “It’s safe with me, I promise.”

Draco was suddenly filled with a load of endearment for Potter. Pansy was the only other person who had ever said similar words to him, and it meant a lot coming from Potter, of all people. Someone who he would have never thought in a million years would know he was gay.

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco said as his cheeks started to feel a bit too warm for his liking.

“I do have- uh, one question. For you.” Potter turned slightly in his seat. He was obviously embarrassed about something. And this time it had nothing to do with him crying; his tears were long gone by now. “Did you ever have a… boyfriend? Or whatever. I honestly thought you and Parkinson were a thing.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Pansy? Ha! Merlin _no_. She did kiss me once, but that’s a story for a different time. No, I never had a boyfriend. I did kiss Theo though, in sixth year. That did not end well,” Draco grimaced. “Don’t ever tell anyone about Theo.”

Potter’s hands went up in mock surrender. “I won’t, I won’t. You’re talking about Theodore Nott, right?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter.”

“It’s just I never even suspected he was- gay.”

“Yeah well it’s not always something you can tell by just looking at someone, you know.” Draco rolled his eyes again. “And Theo isn’t gay. He’s bisexual.”

Potter blinked. “What?”

“What what?”

“What do you mean by ‘bisexual’?”

Draco couldn’t help it, he let out a small snicker. “I mean, he likes both boys and girls.” Was Potter really that daft? Yes. The answer was yes.

Potter’s mouth fell open slightly, and he looked sort of mortified. Maybe he was biphobic. But that wasn’t right, it had sounded like Potter had had no clue what being bisexual even meant. 

“You can do that?” Potter asked.

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Wow.”

“Yep.”

“It’s just, I didn’t even know-”

“No kidding.”

Potter glared at him. “I never had the most, how would you put it, enlightening upbringing. And no one talked about anything related to sexualities during my years at Hogwarts. Like ever.”

Draco was sort of interested in his non-enlightening upbringing, and wished Potter would keep on talking. Not in a bad way, but in an intrigued and I-want-to-get-to-know-you-better way. But that didn’t matter now, they had a potion to brew. 

“We can finish this chat at another time. We need to start brewing the cure. Like now,” Draco said hastily as he gathered up his belongings, getting ready to make the trip to the potions classroom.

“You’re right.” Potter followed Draco’s lead and packed up his possessions too.

As they made their way to Slughorn’s classroom, Draco noticed something different about Potter. He hoped it wasn’t related to the secret he’d told Draco, because it really did not bother him; Potter’s confession hit close to home for him and he would never judge Potter for crying in front of him. He would be a hypocrite if he did. But no, he seemed timid, almost. He was obviously lost in thought as they walked the empty halls, and Draco was immensely curious as to what he was thinking about.

\---

Potter continued to act strange and closed-off around Draco as they had brewed the Restorative Potion together. Well, Draco did all of the actual work, and Potter handed Draco the ingredients he needed, much like he did the previous Friday in Potions class. 

They worked until it was midnight, and Draco had perfected the potion. All they had to do was check back on it every twelve hours for seven days, and they’d be set. They had nine days left until two weeks were up, so if they kept on schedule, they would be done with the potion with two days to spare. That thought was very relieving; everything would turn out okay in the end.

He and Potter had definitely moved into the area of uncomfortable silence with each other once again, and Draco detested it. He didn’t really think it would be possible to fall back into the thick tension with Potter, after everything they had been through together the last couple of days, but he’d been wrong.

It was a different sort of silence than the one Potter had given him that morning, when he was mad at Draco for wasting their Thursday.

Draco couldn’t put his finger on what the fuck was wrong with Potter. Draco knew for sure he had not been the one who ensued the uncomfortable silence, he had actually felt lighter than ever since his confession. 

He now laid in bed, and found himself staring at Potter’s shoulders rising and falling, not for the first time. 

He was about to attempt to fall asleep when he heard rustling coming from Potter’s bed, and watched as Potter turned over onto his other side to face Draco. He could tell that Potter’s eyes were open if he squinted, and Draco hoped Potter couldn’t make out his own eyes staring right back at him.

“Malfoy? Are you awake?” Potter asked.

Draco hesitated. “Yeah.”

“Good work today, you know, with brewing the potion.”

Draco was taken aback at Potter’s compliment. “Thanks.”

“And thank you for agreeing to confess a secret. That must’ve been hard. But we got the cure now, and it will all pay off in the end,” Potter whispered into the darkness.

“Yeah,” Draco said. He didn’t have much else to say, and he felt silly with his short response. What he _wanted_ to say to Potter was something along the lines of, “Why were you ignoring me all afternoon? Had I done something to offend you? Please don’t go back to not speaking to me, it’s incredibly lonely as it is.” Instead he just turned on his other side, facing away from Potter, and pulled his blankets tighter around himself.

“Goodnight, Malfoy,” Potter said in a hushed voice.

Draco wasn’t exactly sure if Potter had really said anything, or if it was his mind making stuff up. They’d never said goodnight to each other before. What had changed?

“Goodnight, Potter,” Draco responded. 

Potter made an inaudible noise, and Draco somehow knew the git was smiling, just like he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Draco and Harry so much. Even though they're both dumbasses. Say 'I' if you agree.
> 
> Once again, next update sometime next week! 
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the story so far, and thank you for your continued support <3


	8. The Alluring Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More secrets. Misplaced trust.

_Draco was finally back in the creepy room, that was oddly both dark and light simultaneously. He couldn’t remember the last time he stood in the room, it felt like a lifetime ago._

_He instantly wrapped his arms around himself, feeling sickeningly cold. Had it been that cold the last time he was here?_

_Draco spun around in place, taking in the sight of the mysterious room and all its weird artifacts._

_“Draco Malfoy,” said an echoey voice._

_The figure. He turned himself halfway around so that he was facing the cloaked person. He looked exactly as he did the last time Draco had been there- well he presumed. Everything was a bit foggy and his mind wasn’t clear. He was starting to sport a headache and he wished he could just have a seat on one of the old chairs that were placed messily around the room._

_He started to act on this thought by moving towards a seat closest to him when he found he couldn’t move his legs. His feet were planted in place, not able to lift up even the tiniest bit._

_“Draco Malfoy,” said the figure again._

_“What?” Draco said impatiently._

_He realized he had just spoken. Even though his mind was most definitely not one hundred percent clear, he was certain he had not been able to speak the last two times he had been here._

_“I have been trying to reach you for a while now,” announced the figure._

_All of Draco’s questions regarding the curse, the ward, his Mark, and why he was having these vision-dream-things while sleeping slipped his mind. He sincerely wished he could ask all the questions that had been jumbled in his head for about a week now, but he could not for the life of him remember anything that had been on his mind._

_“I-” Draco started, but the figure immediately cut him off._

_“I know you are confused. But I am here to tell you, that you will have answers. Patience is key.” The figure walked closer towards Draco. “Now I don’t have much time; listen closely.”_

_Draco thought it was amusing how the figure said “listen closely” like he had a choice in the matter. He literally did not have any other choice at the moment._

_He continued to step closer to Draco as he spoke, “Next Sunday, everyone who is subject to the curse will stay in a death-like sleep forever. It is up to you to-” The cloaked man’s voice became muffled, much like Draco had remembered happening the last time he had a vision. “I have an offer to make you. Now-” The voice became obstructed once more, and it left Draco straining to hear more._

_He needed to know more. What was ‘up to him’ that he had to do? What was the offer?_

Light shone through a window in the Room of Requirement as Draco woke. He wasn’t sure if the sunlight was artificial, created by the Room, or if it was an actual window overlooking Hogwarts’ grounds. 

He sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair. He wondered why Potter hadn’t woken him from his vision. Perhaps he hadn’t been restless, and had slept peacefully on the outside. He knew that on the inside however he _was_ filled to the brim with restlessness and confusion.

He had to tell Potter what had just transpired. He was worried that if he didn’t speak of what the figure had told him, he would forget everything. 

He was about to jump out of bed and wake Potter up when his eyes moved to where Potter should have been laying.

He wasn’t in his bed. He was gone.

“Potter?” Draco said as he pushed his blankets out of the way and let his bare feet hit the cool ground. “Potter, bloody hell, where the fuck are you?”

His mind was racing with only one thought. _Something happened to Harry. Harry. Find Harry._

Could someone have kidnapped him while he was sleeping? How could someone have known to look for them in the Room of Requirement? How could they have gotten in without knowing what room they were using? That left him with only one other guess. Harry had voluntarily left the Room of Requirement.

But he was sure Harry wouldn’t have left Draco’s side. He was the one who constantly insisted on enforcing the rule that the two of them should never split up. 

Draco was about to run out the door and search the whole fucking castle for Harry bloody Potter when the entrance opened and in stepped, who could’ve guessed, Potter.

Potter seemed startled at coming face to face with Draco as he stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind him. He was still in his pyjamas, and his hair was more messy than usual. His cheeks were flushed and he was shivering a bit.

Draco was filled with relief at the sight of him. He never wanted to feel that worried again, even if it was for about two minutes.

However, his relief quickly turned into anger directed towards the man who had _left_ him. Had Potter lost his mind? 

He realized he had spent the last minute staring at Potter, and Potter staring right back. 

He came to his senses and punched Potter in the shoulder. “What the _fuck?_ Harry! Where did you _go?_ You just- you just left me. Without a word.” Draco’s breaths came up fast and he was shaking slightly. He knew he shouldn’t be yelling and shouldn’t have punched Potter, even if it was half-hearted, but he was furious and could not calm down. He needed to take it out on the only other person around.

Potter was stunned. He was massaging the spot where Draco had punched him, and Draco wondered if the punch _had_ been a lot harder than intended. 

“I’m sorry,” Potter finally said. “I hadn’t meant to leave you-” Draco scoffed- “I thought you would have been sleeping longer, so I got up to go and take a little walk outside and clear my head. I planned on being back before you woke, but that obviously didn’t happen. I’m sorry that I scared you.” Potter looked quite sheepish by the time he finished speaking.

Draco huffed and crossed his arms. “I wasn’t _scared_. Just- uh.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Potter sympathized. 

Draco crossed his arms tighter around him and looked Potter dead in the eye. “I woke up, and you were gone.” His voice sounded quiet and small, and he hated how it had come out like that. 

Of course he had been scared. The only other person awake in the castle hadn’t been there when expected. It was a terrible and uneasy feeling thinking that you were left alone because something awful had happened. An even worse feeling when you realize the person hadn’t been taken by some dark force, but willingly chose to leave your side.

He hoped Harry never left his side, ever again. 

He was startled when he felt a cold hand touch his elbow. He could feel how cold Potter’s palm was even through his shirt material, and he vaguely wondered how long he’d been out in the snow. 

“I won’t leave without telling you again. I promise, Draco,” Potter said with what seemed like absolute clarity.

Draco hoped beyond hope that what Potter said was true. 

“Did you just call me Draco?” He raised an eyebrow at Potter, who finally let go of Draco’s elbow. Draco found he missed his touch, even if it was freezing cold.

“No,” Potter said with an embarrassed grin. “Did you call me Harry?”

Draco sputtered, and thought long and hard about what he had said to Potter while he was in the middle of yelling at the bloke. He realized he _had_ called him Harry, and he knew he now mirrored Potter’s bashful composure as the realization struck. “No,” Draco said. 

“Okay,” Potter said evenly.

“Okay,” Draco returned.

\---

Draco was glad that Potter was back to his normal self. 

As they walked to Slughorn’s classroom together, talking about whatever came to their minds, like Quidditch and their favorite kinds of food, Draco became exceedingly aware of how much of a difference Potter was acting today, compared to the night before.

He wanted to ask him what had changed, and what had prompted him to act closed-off last night, but he decided against saying anything on the subject. He, unlike Potter, was not nosey and did not need to know every aspect of Potter’s life. Even if he really, really wanted to know what had bothered him so much.

He hoped Potter’s unprecedented walk through the snow helped him clear his head, at the very least. He liked to think the stroll was of some significance.

Before they had both taken showers and gotten dressed for the day ahead, Draco had made sure to relay every last detail he could remember about his vision to Potter. However, he left out one small detail. The part about the figure’s offer to him. 

He felt horrible about having to lie to Potter about something else, but he told himself he would eventually get around to telling Potter about the offer, right after he found out what exactly the offer was. 

Previously, he had been skeptical to continue leaving his mental wards down every night when he went to bed. It took a lot of energy out of him to constantly keep up his Occlumency, but he thought he might as well not use it as he didn’t need to compartmentalize when the only other person around didn’t even know how to compartmentalize- he thought he’d level the playing field.

Also, since he hadn’t had any visions, and he thought he wouldn’t be getting anymore, he thought he wouldn’t have to worry about using Occlumency to keep out intruders. He’d been wrong about that, obviously, and for a split second he thought he’d go back to using Occlumency at night, but he knew he had to let the figure into his head at least one more time, or until he found out what the figure’s offer was.

“I can’t believe your favorite team is the Chudley Cannons. That’s Ron's favorite team,” Potter said with a laugh.

Draco was mortified to learn that fact, and wished Potter hadn’t just ruined his all time favorite Quidditch team. “Yeah, well. Looks like Weasley is going to have to pick a new team to root for then.”

Potter laughed again, and Draco became aware of how much he absolutely adored listening to him laugh.

They made their way to the Potions classroom and Draco immediately got to work stirring the yellowish-looking potion clockwise for fifteen minutes, using his wand to keep track of the amount of time going by.

Potter sat down on a table nearest to Draco and started twirling his own wand in his hand. 

They’d already discussed that Draco would always be the one to stir the potion, since they were both sure Potter would somehow mess up something as simple as what they had to do every twelve hours; which was literally stirring a potion. But they wanted to be certain the brew would turn out perfect.

“So, should we head to the library after this? We should use our second question to ask the book if there’s something that can break a barrier spell,” Potter spoke up, breaking their silence- which was thankfully comfortable silence.

“Yeah that sounds good,” Draco agreed as he continued to look down at the bubbling potion. “I’ve heard of plenty of counter-curses to barrier spells, however I don’t know them by name, but I know they exist, so we should be set. Maybe we can even get the counter-curse today and be able to get help from the Ministry by nightfall.” Draco knew he sounded sickeningly optimistic, but it was not that hard to believe. Spells to break wards did exist, and since the book provided them with what he hoped was the correct kind of Restorative Potion, he hoped it would do the same for an anti-barrier spell, or potion.

“That’s a nice thought, isn’t it? I hope you end up being right,” Potter mused while tapping his foot against the leg of the table.

“Me too, Potter,” Draco sighed as he came to a stop with stirring. “Me too.”

\---

For what seemed like the hundredth time that week, he and Potter were back to sitting at their usual table in their usual seats, with Snape’s book out and open between them, on a blank page.

“So, I’m guessing revealing one secret gets us all three questions?” Potter asked.

“I would believe so. Let’s try it,” Draco said. “And remember, word the question carefully.”

“Right.” Potter leaned over the blank page. “Book, please reveal to us a spell that will break magical wards.”

Just like it had done yesterday, words inscribed themselves in cursive across the page, revealing what looked like a counter-spell. Provided on the page was the wand movement used to cast the spell, how to pronounce the spell, its origins, and what exactly it was used for.

“Okay, we are getting extremely lucky lately,” Potter stated as he pushed the book closer to Draco.

“I know. It sort of makes me worried. Having this much luck.”

“Sometimes we just have to accept that good things happen; no strings attached,” Potter shrugged slightly.

Draco thought that was a very wise thing to say. He ought to remember what Potter had said so he could think back on it and use it when times got dark, and he felt something terrible was bound to come out of the genuine good moments.

With the book safely clutched in Potter’s hand, they both made their way outside and took the shortest route to where the ward touched the ground. It was still a long walk, probably taking them about thirty minutes to reach the end of the barrier, but it certainly did not feel that long. He and Potter talked the whole way, laughing and making jokes with each other; it was starting to feel as if they weren’t in the middle of some huge crisis, and they were just two boys having fun and going on a walk to the outskirts of Hogwarts.

At one point during their walk, Potter tripped over some rock buried in the snow, landing face first into the icy ground. Draco thought of how similar the moment was to when they had both walked back from Hogsmeade late at night while it had snowed, and Potter had slipped on a patch of ice. 

They had both unexpectedly come so far from the two boys who despised the other, and could barely stand in the others presence without hurling insults. And it had all been done in a week. Who knew one week could change your relationship with someone. Especially that ‘someone’ being the man who Draco terrorized throughout his years at Hogwarts. 

He so desperately wanted to ask Potter if what they had accumulated over the past week was something close to friendship. He wanted to know where he stood with Potter- what Potter saw Draco as. But, like always, he was a coward who couldn’t form the right words. He wished Potter would just outright ask him if they were friends, so Draco wouldn’t have to. He wasn’t sure whether Potter was also scared of asking the question, or if he just didn’t care, and didn’t spend all day thinking about if they were friends or not; so the question never even crossed his mind.

Draco hoped it was the former, but he had an inkling it was the latter. 

Why would Potter grow to care for him after everything Draco had done? He didn’t think it was possible for someone to forgive so many wrongs, and Draco didn’t expect to be forgiven for all those wrongs either. 

All he wanted from Potter and everyone else in the Wizarding World was a second chance; a chance to show he could be a better person in wizarding society- not supporting the old, and what he realized now, stupid Pureblood ideology.

Like Potter had said at Hogsmeade, he needed to do something to actually show he had changed. He knew he couldn’t keep staying silent, he needed to speak up more and join an important cause. Maybe he could somehow join the Muggle Studies class, even if it was mid-January.

“Here we go,” Potter said as they approached the sparkly ward. He opened the book to the bookmarked page which explained how to cast the counter-charm.

“ _Obice Confractus!_ ” Potter pointed his wand at the ward, glancing down at the book held in his hand, and made the wand movement pictured. 

Nothing happened.

“Huh,” Is all Potter said as they both stared dumbly at the still sparkling ward.

“Try again. Maybe you didn’t do the right wand movement,” Draco added, hoping to bring back some of the optimism he had earlier.

Potter shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I did it right. Look,” Potter showed Draco the page and pointed at different parts, “It’s a simple spell. It’s not supposed to be hard at all. The movement required isn’t even difficult.”

Potter was definitely right. As Draco looked down at the page, he noticed how easy the charm was to cast. The movement was two circles overlapping each other. A First Year could probably cast the spell.

“I’ll try again, though.” Potter did attempt the spell again. And again. And again, until he had probably cast the charm about fifteen times, and each time it never worked.

Draco huffed in annoyance. “Knew it. I knew we were having too much good luck.”

“Don’t think like that. Our good luck streak can still continue, this is just a little bump in the road,” Potter said softly, like he was speaking to a child.

It was amusing how he and Potter went back and forth consoling the other, saying comforting words when they got upset. Sometimes Potter was the one filled with anger and annoyance, and Draco was the one who spoke reassuringly. Sometimes it was the other way around, like right now.

“I just don’t understand how it didn’t work. It should have worked. Something must be wrong with the book. Give it-” Draco reached out for the book, attempting to snatch it from Potter’s tight grip, but he wasn’t fast enough, and Potter pulled the book away and out of Draco’s reach.

“I doubt anything is wrong with the book, Malfoy,” Potter said.

“You don’t know that! What if the potion we’re brewing right now ends up not working! We have a week and a day until next Sunday, we-”

“Calm down. Alright?” Potter interrupted. He put his hand on Draco’s elbow again, and somehow Draco instantly felt relieved.

He took a couple deep breaths and nodded at Potter. Potter removed his hand.

“I’m guessing this counter-spell was not strong enough. The witch or wizard who cast this barrier probably made sure it couldn't be broken by some first year spell. Besides, if we get the potion done in the right amount of time, and wake everyone up, the adults can work it out,” Potter reassured.

Draco wanted to mention that _they_ were technically adults. 

Potter continued, “I’ve had way too many adults in my life throw their problems on children. It’s time they can take some responsibility for something. We figured out one part, and they can figure out the next.”

Draco nodded in agreement. “That’s fair enough.”

Potter tucked Snape’s book into his coat pocket- since it was small enough to fit- and Potter’s coat pockets were oddly ginormous. 

They both looked up, startled, as it started to lightly snow.

“We should head back inside before the snow gets really bad,” Potter stated, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

“You’re right,” Draco agreed. 

They hadn’t been prepared for the snow, only heading out in their winter coats; no Gryffindor or Slytherin styled accessories. 

“So, what should we do when we’re back inside?” Potter asked as they turned themselves around and started making their way back to Hogwarts.

Draco considered their options for a moment. “I guess you can start working on defensive spells again. We really don’t have anything else to do until twelve tonight.”

Potter groaned. “Those defensive spells are _useless_ , I tell you.”

Draco snorted. “Only because you can’t actually cast them properly. Otherwise I think they’d be quite _useful_.” He hadn’t meant it to come out sounding like an insult, but he realized a little too late it sort of had.

“I’d like to see you try,” Potter retorted, however lightheartedly.

“Yeah, well.” 

He was glad they hadn’t gotten into an argument. He weirdly found that having civil conversations with Potter were much more enjoyable than arguing.

\---

Once back inside the library, Potter started back up his practice with defensive spells. He had not wanted to try and learn the Deletrius charm, but Draco convinced him he should practice casting it a little while longer, since he had already worked on it for a good amount of time.

Potter had cast _Deletrius_ so many times the past hour, Draco’s ears were starting to hurt by listening to the word on repeat. He hadn’t even made any progress either, so Draco’s head was throbbing for nothing.

“Potter, I think I’m going to go find a new book to read or whatever. Keep casting,” Draco said as he got up from his seat and headed to a section hidden from Potter’s view.

He didn’t stay around long enough to hear Potter’s response, and he had a feeling he hadn’t even been heard, since Potter was so focused on getting the charm correct. It was a good thing that Potter’s center of attention wasn’t on Draco, though. Draco was going to do something utterly horrible.

Well, it was horrible if you counted going behind someone else’s back sickening; someone you specifically told you wouldn’t keep secrets from.

While Potter hadn’t been looking, Draco had snatched Snape’s book from its spot laying on the table, and held it tightly in his hand. Since it was about the size of his palm, the book was easy to conceal, plus, Potter was luckily too caught up in his spell casting, so stealing the book right from under Potter’s nose had been easy.

Technically, he wasn’t stealing the book. He’d return it to the tabletop when he was done, but he had to find out more about his Mark.

No, he wouldn’t use up the last question they had, that would have been way too evil even for him. He and Potter were saving the last question for anything extremely terrible that came up. They’d decided not to try another question regarding a new counter-spell for the ward, one that was possibly more powerful. They weren’t positive such a spell existed, and they wouldn’t chance giving up their last question to find out. It was agreed upon that they would first wake everyone up in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and then figure out their ward problem. 

While he had been watching Potter cast spell after spell for the past hour, and his Mark had burned away, probably grinning up at him from his arm- blistering in the pain and self-loathing that washed over him, he thought he might possibly have a way to find out more about the Dark Mark.

After a lot of thinking, he figured that the charm the book had given to break through magical barriers had worked, just wasn’t strong enough to break through such a huge ward, like Potter had said. He guessed a small object could possibly go through the ward, they hadn’t tested it out with rocks like they usually did, but he hoped he would be correct.

His plan was to write a letter to his father in Azkaban, asking if his Mark had started moving once again like Draco’s. He _had_ to know. He had to know if it was just him being cursed, or all of the former Death Eaters. 

In all honesty, it was a stupid, reckless plan that would probably end up not working. They weren’t even sure if everyone else in the Wizarding World was subject to the curse too. But Draco had to try. Plus, his plan wasn’t hurting anybody. He wasn’t going to use up the last question from Snape’s book, he wasn’t going behind Potter’s back to plan a murder, he just wanted to know if others were experiencing the same pain as he was. 

He was going to use the spell the book had given, Obice Confractus, to charm a single letter, allowing it passage through the ward, messaging his father in Azkaban, asking if Lucius’ Mark had started moving too.

Draco found a spare sheet of parchment laying on one of the empty tables, along with a quill nearby, and got to work writing his letter.

He didn’t have to worry about the Aurors stationed at Azkaban reading his letter; along with removing the Dementors, they implemented more humane rules that insured the Prisoner's privacy. Immediate family members were the only people allowed to message anyone in Azkaban, and although the guards weren’t allowed to read the contents of letters sent to the prison, they were allowed to read what the prisoner’s wrote back. It wasn’t much more privacy for the prisoner’s exactly, but privacy to the family members outside of Azkaban. It was something, and that something was all Draco needed.

Of course, the Aurors had to check if there were any dangerous charms on letters sent into Azkaban, but that didn’t affect Draco’s plan in the least. The only charm he would be placing on his letter was Obice Confractus, and that was hardly a dangerous spell.

He finished writing his short letter, and read it over a couple times.

_Father,_

_This might be a strange question, but I need your honest answer. Has your Dark Mark started moving again? Please respond with a simple yes or no._

_-Draco_

He nodded to himself in approval, and sealed the letter in an envelope using a quick _Accio_ to obtain the envelope and seal. 

With a couple of quick glances over his shoulder to where he could hear Potter casting away, he hastily made his way over to a window in the very back of the library- his wand, letter, and Snape’s book in hand.

He opened the window and prayed to Merlin that what he was about to do would work.

“ _Accio_ owl,” He said, and bit back on a bout of laughter he felt coming as he heard the words that had come out of his mouth. 

To his luck, an eagle owl came flying from around a spire and landed on the ledge in front of him. It looked like the owl he had when he was younger, and for a second he allowed himself to reminisce in the good old memories of his youth.

He then realized that if one owl was awake at the moment, other animals had to be awake. He and Potter had certainly not taken into account all the animals running around Hogwarts. He wondered how well they were holding up without anyone feeding them, and then remembered that Pansy had a cat of her own and he _never_ saw her feed it, and yet Mr. Cat was still alive. He came to the conclusion that the animals were fine. 

He shook his head and focused back on the matter at hand. 

He pointed the tip of his wand at the letter, glancing briefly at the picture in the book, and cast the spell, “ _Obice Confractus!”_

The letter shimmered for a second, and then went back to its normal self. He repeated the steps over again except with the owl this time, who did not look pleased to have a spell cast on him, and gestured for the owl to take the letter sitting on the ledge. 

He told the owl where he needed the letter sent to, and it took off with a small _hoot._ Draco watched as it flew outside the range of the ward encasing Hogwarts. The spell had worked. 

He felt pride swell up inside him at successfully casting the charm, even if it was fairly simple, and felt it contract as he thought of how much of a complete idiot he was. 

He could have sent a letter for help, since the owl had successfully breached the ward without disintegrating, and yet he chose to send a letter to his father. Sure, he didn’t know the letter would be successfully received by anyone, but he could have at least tried. He thought briefly of sending another letter when he heard Potter cry out, “Draco, Draco! Come here!”

So Potter was back to calling him Draco again. He had to admit, he liked hearing his name come out of Potter’s mouth. 

He walked over to where Potter was still standing, facing a shelf that Draco was sure had a chair sitting in front of it at one point. 

“What?” Draco asked.

“I- I just- I,” Potter gestured to the shelf and to the ground, where there was a pile of ash near his feet. 

“Spit it out, Potter, what?”

“I made the chair disintegrate.” It came out in a sort of choked whisper, but Draco heard it perfectly clear nonetheless. 

“You got the charm to work?” Draco asked, surprised but impressed.

“Yes!” Potter somewhat squealed.

“Potter that’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” Draco had actually been the complete opposite of sure, but he had to say something encouraging.

Potter blushed, and Draco had to look away from his face to keep himself from blushing too.

Draco stepped a little closer, aiming to congratulate him by patting him on the back, but Potter apparently thought he was doing something completely different, so they ended up in an awkward hug-like-stance with Draco hesitantly touching Potter’s shoulder blade, his lips close to Potter’s ear and Potter’s breath on his neck.

They pulled away as quickly as it had happened, and both respectively cleared their throats, trying not to assess the awkwardness of the situation that had just happened between them. 

“You called me Draco,” Draco smirked.

“No! I-” Potter stuttered, searching for an excuse. “Okay, fine, I guess I did.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You can call me Harry, if you want. Only if I’m allowed to call you Draco for now on.”

Draco was going to protest. But, he knew that he honestly loved saying _Harry’s_ first name as much as he loved hearing his own name come out of the other boy’s mouth.

He tried to sound nonchalant as he accepted Harry’s offer. “Fine.” He shrugged.

Harry grinned. “Okay now, _Draco,_ watch this.” He promptly cast _Deletrius_ at a quill on the nearest table, and a pile of ash appeared in the quill’s place.

Draco urged to embrace Potter- _Harry_ \- once more, but he continued to stand a safe distance from him, nodding in approval and matching the grin on Harry’s face with his own small smile. 

\---

_“I have waited a long time for this,” The figure spoke._

_Draco was back in his mysterious vision-dream realm, standing directly in front of the cloaked man. He was frozen in fear, due to the closeness of the figure._

_“Stop speaking in riddles,” Draco said, forgetting that he could now actually talk, and surprised to hear words roll off his tongue. “Get to the point of why we’re both here.”_

_“Gladly.” Draco guessed he was smiling a devilish smile from under his hood. “You now have exactly a week until next Sunday. I have an offer for you, young Malfoy.” Draco waited in anticipation for him to say what the offer was. He’d been waiting all day to finally fall asleep and find out the proposition. The figure continued, “I had originally planned to give you two weeks to make the decision, but contacting you proved to be quite difficult.”_

_“Okay, get to the point,” Draco said impatiently._

_“I need Harry Potter’s blood.”_

_Draco blanched. “What?”_

_“You heard me. In one week, I will enter Hogwarts, and I will expect you to have Harry Potter’s blood, ready to give to me. If not, everyone will stay under the sleeping curse for good, and I will make sure you watch as I kill your parents and anyone else you hold dear. I will make you watch, until you have no one left, until you are nothing. And then, Draco Malfoy, I will kill you too.” He paused momentarily. “It’s a simple offer, really.”_

_“Are you crazy? I- I can’t do that! And why do you need Harry’s blood anyway? Are you some sort of vampire?” Draco was shocked at the request, he had not thought the offer would be so vile and cruel._

_The figure laughed. “No, child, no. I am a part of a much bigger cause, I want to make the world a much better place. Like I said, you have one week to decide what you want to do. I trust you will make the right choice.”_

_“I have so many questions. I don’t even know where to start-”_

_“We don’t have much time, but ask what you want. I will answer to the best of my abilities.”_

_“Why do you need Harry’s blood?”_

_“I can’t answer that. Not yet, anyways.”_

_“Why do I have to be the one to do it?”_

_“I also cannot answer that.”_

_“Well, I’m not doing it.” Draco crossed his arms. “You’re lying. You can’t enter Hogwarts. It’s protected with powerful magic. Also, Harry and I already made a cure. It will be ready Friday. We’ll have everyone awake by Sunday, so you won’t have any leverage over me.” He tried to make his voice sound powerful, but he knew it still sounded shaky and scared._

_He laughed again. “You think that, yes. But you are wrong. You will see.”_

_The room started to fade away, and Draco knew he was about to wake up. He still had so many questions, he still had to make sure his family, and Harry, and every other Witch or Wizard wasn’t in any danger._

_“Oh, and don’t think about contacting anyone else. If you do, it will end badly for your dear parents,” The figure added. “I know you will make the right choice, Draco.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Draco's Bday is coming up on June 5th. That's it. I just thought everyone should know if you don't already. So mark your calendars and make sure to wish him a happy birthday
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next update sometime next week!


	9. Garden of Mystics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the middle of a crisis, Draco and Harry are still allowed to have fun, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm posting a lot later than usual, writer's block got the best of me this chapter, but nonetheless, I present to you the latest chapter of Finding Sophrosyne :) Hope you enjoy

It was the middle of the night when Draco sprung awake from his vision-dream. He still wasn’t sure what to call it exactly, but that didn’t matter.

He felt like he had just run a race. He felt tired, sweaty, and he was breathing ridiculously hard, all at the same time.

He pushed away the covers of his bed, and immediately went to the bathroom, where he splashed cold water all over his face, trying to remember and forget everything he had been told. 

What the cloaked figure had said was utterly crazy and ridiculous, and could not possibly be true. Right? He wanted to believe it not to be true, but he had a nagging feeling spreading throughout him that the figure was right. Draco couldn’t be sure, since the two week timeline wasn’t up yet, and nothing dangerous had come to pass, but his gut told him he should listen to the figure.

The figure knew his name. He knew Draco had sent a letter to his father. He probably knew many other facts about Draco’s life too. He had to treat the figure’s message like it was completely true, or else he or Harry might have to pay the consequences for their ignorance. Well, it was mostly Draco who would have to pay, since he was the one specifically getting the dreams; the one who got a _horrible_ offer where in either situation he would lose something. 

He wasn’t sure why the figure needed Harry’s blood, but it most certainly was going to be used for something evil, since why else would anyone need the _Savior’s_ blood? Definitely not to admire and keep in a jar, although Draco was sure some crazy fan out there would do that. 

But if he didn’t accept the offer, would his parents and friends (or in his case, _friend_ ) really be murdered? He liked to think it was all bluff, but once again he couldn’t assume the offer was full of lies, sent just to mess with him. He wouldn’t be the one responsible for more deaths.

Draco desperately needed to talk to Harry. Harry made situations better. Harry helped him forget. Harry kept him calm and brought light into his life. 

He wanted to spill everything to Harry, to talk about his burning Mark and the letter he sent his father, but he couldn’t yet. When everything was figured out, maybe, just maybe, he would. For now he had to make sure their Restorative Potion was perfectly brewed, so he could prove the figure wrong, and wake everyone up. If everyone was awake, the figure would have no leverage over Draco, and everything would be solved. 

Draco unlocked the bathroom door, trying to reign in his shaky breaths before attempting to fall back asleep. First thing when they woke up, Draco would tell Harry he had had another vision, circling around the details of his offer.

He was about to crawl back into bed when he noticed Harry was visibly trembling, sort of like he was cold. Draco knew that wasn’t the case. The Room of Requirement was the perfect temperature, catering to their specific needs whenever one of them so much as blinked. Harry must be having a nightmare.

Draco was hesitant on what exactly he should do. He didn’t know how to comfort people. Especially people he was enemies-turned-sort-of-friends with. He wanted to sleep badly, he didn’t want to spend another second awake and worrying about the figure’s offer.

His feet moved on their own accord, and before he knew it he was standing at the side of Harry’s sickeningly Gryffindor bed. _Then_ , the next thing he knew, he was getting _into_ said Gryffindor bed. On top of the covers of course, but really, really close to Harry Potter, _in a bed_. He stopped his mind from conjuring dirty thoughts on the situation, and focused on trying to comfort the boy who was trembling and mouthing unreadable words.

He scooted closer to Harry, and they were laying side by side, Draco’s arm touching Harry’s. Draco was leaning slightly to look at Harry’s face, propped up on one arm. He then moved his hand slightly, letting it linger over Harry’s forehead, and then brushed back a few strands of hair. He could see his famous lightning bolt scar when his hair was pushed back, and he wanted to touch it, oddly enough. 

He was about to act on his intention when Harry stirred slightly, and Draco was afraid he’d wake up. But Harry kept on sleeping, and Draco could see that his nightmare had passed, by his movements turning from shaky to subdued. 

Still, Draco brushed a couple more strands of Harry’s hair back, and then he found himself getting more tired than before, and he dropped his hand back by his side, lying flat on his back. He hoped his presence calmed down Harry. His mother used to do the same thing to him whenever he had a nightmare; stroking his hair and simply lying beside him. Draco always found it calming. 

He made a half-hearted attempt at getting up from his comfortable position next to Harry, and wasn’t surprised to find he had moved literally nowhere. His body and brain were exhausted, he didn’t have enough willpower to move back to his bed. He’d wake up before Harry and switch beds, so Harry wouldn’t ever find out Draco had fucking laid next to him and stroked his hair like a total creep. Yeah, he’d wake up earlier than Harry, it would all work out fine. 

\---

The first thing Draco noticed when he woke up was that there was a hand- most certainly not _his_ hand- pressed up against his chest. He then realized there were another pair of legs tangled slightly in his. 

After a minute or two of lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, he finally decided to turn his head and endure the inevitable. 

Harry Potter was lying next to him. Luckily, he was still asleep. But that didn’t stop Draco’s heart from pounding brutally inside his chest. He did not want to believe he had fallen asleep in another bloke's bed, but the proof that he actually _had_ was sleeping soundly right next to him, slightly curled up into Draco’s side.

He remembered why he had wandered over to Harry’s bed, and how he had felt awful for Harry in the middle of the night- seeing him experience a nightmare. Now though, he felt stupid for doing what he had done. Harry had been through lots of nightmares before and didn’t need Draco to comfort him, he was sure of it. Harry probably had an even worse sleep last night with Draco crowding the bed. 

Draco was about to silently slip out from under the covers and go back to his bed when Harry opened his eyes, staring directly at Draco.

Draco had to admit, he’d never been more mortified in his entire life. 

Harry rubbed his eyes, and Draco hoped he was blind enough without his glasses to not notice his presence.

“Draco? What are you doing?” Harry said as he blinked a couple times, clearly not believing his own eyes.

Draco jumped out of the bed, mad that Harry could make out his form even without his glasses.

“Nothing. Just uh- leaving,” Draco tried as he headed towards the bathroom.

Harry put on his glasses. “Were you laying in my bed?”

He paused for a second, figuring out what the fuck to say. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Harry shook his head. ”Nope.”

“Okay, well,” Draco panicked. “It’s just- in the middle of the night I woke up and I could tell you were having a nightmare. I wanted to- to make sure you were okay.”

Harry blushed and turned his head slightly away from Draco. “Thank you. For doing that.”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I slept in your bed. That’s weird.”

Harry shrugged. “It's fine. Really. I actually slept really well last night.”

“Oh,” Draco managed to choke out. So Harry _had_ benefited from Draco’s company. 

He was about to continue on his way towards the bathroom to get ready when he remembered his vision, along with the horrid offer. “Before I forget,” Draco said, “I had another vision.”

Draco told Harry about his vision that night and explained how it was similar to last night, even though it really hadn’t been, and he made sure not to add any extra details regarding the offer, or really anything the figure said to him. It was sort of pointless telling Harry the same details again, but it was better than lying completely and saying he had had no messages from the figure at all. 

When Draco got dressed, he was feeling extra bold and decided to wear a Muggle themed outfit: jeans and a jumper. He contemplated changing a dozen times while admiring his outfit in the mirror, and after a lot of self pep-talks, he walked out of the bathroom sort of confidently in his Muggle attire. 

He tried not to watch Harry’s eyes following him as he walked over to his bed, pulling on his shoes and gathering up his wand and a couple of books into his bag. He felt extremely self-conscious, and knew Harry was probably judging him severely, but he pulled himself together, trying to remind himself what Harry thought of his outfit did not matter. 

Somehow his vision from that night lit a fire inside him, and it made him feel different: more alert and collected. He guessed it had been because he and his family were threatened by some psychopath, and now he felt more motivated than ever to get the potion finished, and be ready for a fight if it came down to it. 

It made him put things in perspective, honestly. What Harry thought of his Muggle attire did not matter in the grand scheme of things. And besides, what he was wearing now was much more comfortable than his heavy robes. The Room had even provided him with a jumper that was tight around the cuffs; he didn’t need to wear cuff-links or magic his sleeves at all, which he was grateful about. 

When he turned back around to stare at Harry and suggest they should get going- it was almost twelve o’clock- Harry immediately lifted his head and looked away, embarrassed. He had been looking in Draco’s direction when Draco had been turned around, and he wondered what Harry could have been doing that made him so sheepish. It was like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

Draco eyed him skeptically. “So, should we get going, then?”

“Er- yeah, yeah,” Harry said, picking up his bag.

It felt like Déjà vu, making their walk to the potions classroom around twelve, like they had done the previous day and night. They’d given up on checking out the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms to check if anyone had woken up. Draco’s visions made it abundantly clear everyone would stay asleep until next Sunday. Or worse, in the situation Draco was avoiding thinking about, would stay asleep forever if Draco didn’t comply with what the figure had told him to do.

Harry didn’t know the latter though, and never would have to find out. 

Draco would brew the potion correctly. He was sure of it. And then Harry would never need to find out about the horrible offer and what Draco was supposed to do, since everyone would be awake, and there wouldn’t be a sword hanging over Draco’s head anymore. There wasn’t anyone whose potion skills could even compare to Draco’s. Except Severus Snape, perhaps, but that was a different story.

He wondered, not for the first time, if this had all been strategically planned by the cloaked man. The answer to that question: probably.

The fact that it was only Draco and Harry awake in the castle, so that Draco could bring the figure Harry's blood without any interference. Perhaps the figure wanted Draco to get close to Harry, earn his trust, and then betray him. Like any loyal Death Eater would.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked as they neared Slughorn’s classroom.

“Are we just going to take turns asking that question?” Draco retorted.

“You just seem… upset. About something. I’m not mad at you for sleeping next to me, really.”

Draco opened the door to the classroom, shaking his head. “It’s not that. It’s complicated. I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me. We’ve got all the time in the world, really.”

Draco sighed. “You know that’s not true. And please, Harry, let’s just focus on stirring the potion, alright?”

“But-”

“Please, just let it go. I’m-” In distress. Absolutely torn to pieces having to constantly lie to you. Carrying the weight of a lot of lives on my shoulders at the moment. Having to keep that burden to myself. Worrying that the potion we’re brewing right now is for nothing- “Okay.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, obviously not believing Draco.

Draco hated when Harry gave him that look. He tried to ignore the pulling in his heart whenever Harry gave him that incredibly disbelieving and I-know-you’re-hiding-something look, but it became increasingly hard to ignore the more he saw it.

\---

The next day, a Monday, Draco found himself skimming through books in the library.

They officially had less than a week until this coming Sunday, and Draco became more anxious as time went on. Harry seemed stressed too, but not to the same extent as Draco, obviously. 

Draco hadn’t used Occlumency that night, finding he wanted to speak to the figure again. About many things that couldn’t yet be explained. He knew if he had a chance to encounter the figure again, it wouldn’t be likely he would answer any of Draco’s questions, but Draco wanted to try at the very least.

However, even though he’d made sure not to use Occlumency, he hadn’t had a vision. He was happy he didn’t have to look at the cloaked man again, who only brought horrible fortunes, but was terrified that he wouldn’t get another chance to speak to the man again. Maybe they could strike some other deal, that could possibly result with no one getting hurt or having to suffer. The thought was incredibly unlikely, but Draco did seem to now have a new found optimistic streak inside of him.

Harry was now practicing a handful of new spells, now that he’d mastered _Deletrius_.

Ever since the offer, Draco wanted to enforce the prospect of learning new defense spells now more than ever. The figure made it clear he wanted Draco to comply with him and only him, and since Draco obviously wasn’t going to take the figure up on his offer, the next best thing for them was to be prepared and ready. 

Maybe Harry didn’t understand the importance of learning new defensive spells fully, but he was at least motivated, and was glad he had something to do instead of waiting around for the potion to be finished.

Draco on the other hand really had nothing to do. He was the one doing the brewing, and Harry was the one learning spells. They each had their respective time slots of being useful and productive, and lucky for Harry- he had a bigger window of productiveness than Draco’s fifteen minutes of brewing two times a day.

Draco’s fingers brushed over a book with an extremely bumpy spine, and he was instantly enthralled, pulling out the book to see if it was something worth reading to pass the time and get his mind off the offer.

In the distance he heard Harry casting away, making noises of joy whenever he did something correct, and immense groaning when he couldn’t get a spell to work. He snickered to himself, shaking his head at how much fucking _noise_ one man could create just from practicing spells.

The book he’d pulled out _had_ been an interesting one. The title read: _Aditum ad Amet Cast._ Which translated to “Fun Spells to Cast.” 

He was now almost positive the universe could read his mind. This book was exactly what he needed at the moment to cure his boredom and refocus his mind. 

He headed back over to the area where Harry was located, and sat down at their usual table, opening the book and reading the table of contents, finding a section on simple spells he should be able to cast without breaking any part of his probation. 

Harry shouted, “ _Fumos!_ ” which made a large cloud of smoke appear in front of him, and Draco started coughing while swatting away the fumes.

“Maybe cast it somewhere else?” Draco said after he finished coughing. 

He could now see, and Harry was grinning like an idiot. A mixture of pride, having casted a difficult spell correctly, and pleasure of annoying Draco.

“Maybe _you_ can go read somewhere else,” Harry suggested.

“But I was here _first,_ ” Draco said, and he knew he was pouting. However, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He enjoyed these little jabs he and Harry threw at each other. It brought back that little tugging of his heart and pit in his stomach feeling that he loathed but loved simultaneously.

“Well you don’t get to say that when you constantly get up from your seat.” Harry crossed his arms, falling into a prideful stance that clearly said he wasn’t backing down from this argument. “What are you reading now, anyway?” He pointed at the book laid out in front of Draco with his wand.

Draco stuck his nose up in the air, turning his head away; however, it was just for show. He wasn’t really upset with Harry. He wanted to annoy him in a good-natured way. “It’s none of your business.”

He saw Harry step closer out of the corner of his eye. “Lemme see”

Draco closed the book and held it to his chest. “No.”

He was briefly confused on how they had gotten to the point where they were arguing about a _book_. A book that Draco really had no reason to hide, other than to piss Harry off. He then remembered it was because of the stupid cloud of smoke Harry had created. 

Harry reached for the book in Draco’s hands, attempting to pull it away from him, but Draco jumped up and out of his seat. He vaguely heard the crash of the chair he’d been sitting in hitting the ground as he backed away from Harry, the book still tightly held against his chest.

Harry had an evil grin on his face, and Draco knew he had the same smile plastered on his own face.

Draco realized he was getting cornered by Harry, pressed against a bookshelf. He would _not_ lose this battle.

No. Fucking. Way.

Right as Harry was about to lunge for the book, he tucked his wand away, and that was all the distraction Draco needed. He sidestepped his way, passed Harry, and bolted through the library, heading out the doors. 

He heard Harry’s stream of cussing as Draco’s hand- that wasn’t wrapped tightly around the book- hit the doorway, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He kept on running down the corridor, listening to the sounds of his feet hitting the floor echo off the walls. He heard a second sound, Harry running, coming from behind him, which only motivated him to run faster.

He felt so light, running through the empty halls of Hogwarts, being chased by Harry Potter. He heard Harry’s laugh, and then he started laughing too, just because of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. 

This was one of the best and most care-free moments he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. All thanks to the two of them fighting.

He more or less knew he shouldn’t have bolted away from Harry. They were supposed to stick together, never be apart, and he’d carelessly broken that rule. But a part of him was sure Harry would chase after him, and he’d been right. He was glad he’d been right because the prospect of running through empty corridors was sort of frightening. Also, the walk back to the library would have surely been a walk of shame, knowing he’d been a complete idiot running through Hogwarts alone.

But since it was the two of them running, the moment certainly didn’t feel idiotic or foolish, it felt _fun_. It felt like he was eleven years old again. Not withholding the weight of a Dark Lord or war on his shoulders.

It was like all the world's problems could be solved by two teenage boys laughing and running through a vacant castle.

His stamina and endurance were the best they’ve been since fifth year. This week he’d eaten properly and had multiple walks around and outside of Hogwarts; his body was stronger than ever. Even if his body wasn’t back to full health completely, he was making progress. He only hoped that when this sleeping curse was all over, he’d maintain healthy eating and exercise habits. 

While pondering his lifestyle choices over the last week, he realized he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was heading. He was running straight towards a wall at full momentum, with absolutely no way of stopping in time to avoid a crash.

He thought he heard Harry shout, “Draco!” as he ran face first into a stone wall. He instinctively held out both hands as he met the wall, dropping the book he so desperately wanted to protect, and fell backwards. His back hit the floor along with his head, and he groaned in pain, clutching his nose that had banged into the stone.

He was sure the situation could not have gotten worse. 

Of course, he’d been wrong. 

Harry crashed into him, his feet tripping over Draco’s body, falling right on top of Draco, making him grunt in even more pain.

Harry was awkwardly lying half across Draco’s torso, his feet near Draco’s shoulder’s and his head near Draco’s feet.

“Harry,” Draco breathed. “Get the fuck off of me.”

“Gladly,” Harry said, standing up swiftly, holding his forehead and squinting slightly.

Draco wanted to be left alone so he could perish in peace. He didn’t want Harry, of all people, seeing him in agony from foolishly running into a wall. He was pretty sure his nose was bleeding, and when he looked at his fingers that had been clutching it before Harry had fallen on top of him, they came back stained a dark red, and he groaned even more.

“Watch where you're going next time, will you?” Draco said, attempting to sit up straight and failing. 

Harry walked closer to Draco, peering down at him with his glasses off. He’d always wanted to see Harry with his glasses off. During the day, that was. He’d obviously seen them off while Harry had been sleeping, but the light of day was a completely different story. However, sadly, Draco could hardly see- everything was blurry.

“I could say the same thing to you,” Harry said, still nursing his forehead.

“Well you were the one coming up behind me. You should have been paying attention.”

Harry laughed slightly. “We could go on and on with this all day.” He paused. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Brilliant observation,” Draco honked as he gripped his nose firmly.

“You know this sort of reminds me of sixth year, on the Hogwarts Express. Except the other way around.”

“You know, I would love to reminisce in our past, Harry, but not right now while I’m in pain and my nose is bleeding.”

“Okay, hold still.” Harry moved closer, bending down somewhat over Draco’s face with his wand out.

Draco guessed what happened next was because Harry had accidentally stepped on the book he’d dropped. Harry came tumbling down right on top of Draco again, except this time his head was mere inches from Draco’s, Harry’s body almost fully covering Draco’s.

Draco believed time had truly frozen. They both didn’t move at all. Draco was sure he and Harry both stopped breathing, maybe even blinking too. Their faces were just _so close_ to each other, it was suffocating. Draco could now fully see Harry up close without his glasses, and he had to admit, Harry was stunning; his face the definition of perfect. His eyes so very green and his black hair that fell down over his forehead, brushing his long thick eyelashes, looked so soft. Hell, he knew his hair was soft from the night he had creepily run his fingers through it. 

That was when Draco took a brief look at Harry’s lips. They were right above Draco’s, and he wished he knew how soft they were. He thought he saw Harry glance at Draco’s lips, but he was still slightly delusional and the world was still foggy, he knew he had made it up.

“Harry,” Draco breathed. The word felt so intimate, so personal, and he, Draco Malfoy, got to say it. He thought that there wasn’t a word that existed in any language that sounded as perfect as _Harry_. 

Harry, Harry, Harry, _Harry_. Who used to be just Potter to him. 

“You’re crushing me,” Draco reluctantly said. 

“Oh.” Harry removed himself and stood up. “Sorry.”

Draco had felt like they were having a moment, just then. A special moment. But, in that moment, he realized one of the reasons he couldn’t breathe was because Harry had been pressed against him so hard he’d been suffocating slightly.

“You’re still bleeding,” Harry commented, picking up his wand that had fallen onto the floor right next to his glasses that thankfully weren’t broken. 

“Well, yes. You falling on top of me didn’t really change that fact,” Draco huffed.

“Hold still, a second time.” Harry brandished his wand and cast _Tergeo,_ promptly cleaning up the blood on Draco’s face and fingers. He was lucky that blood hadn’t ended up on his grey jumper; it was a really nice Muggle jumper.

His head felt better too, and he now had the capability to sit up properly, looking around on the floor next to him for the book he’d dropped.

“Hmmm, what even _is_ this book?” Harry asked.

Draco looked up at Harry, who was studying the front cover of the book, obviously trying (and failing) to read the latin title.

Draco didn’t even bother trying to grab the book from Harry. He was sore in many different places and his vision was coming back to him slowly, he didn’t want another altercation that would result in himself surely getting hurt again. Harry seemed fine. His apparent head injury he’d had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and he was peering down at _Draco’s_ book with mild interest.

“Fun Spells to Cast,” Draco told Harry.

“What?”

“The title. I just gave it to you.”

“Oh. That’s a silly name for a book.”

“It’s a children’s book, Harry. Obviously.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Why were you reading it then if it’s a children’s book?”

“The spells inside the book are easy to learn and wouldn’t frustrate me. Also, I’m pretty sure those spells won’t come close to breaking my probation if I cast them.”

“Let’s try some then,” Harry stated. He opened the book to a random page and Draco stood up, wanting to see what spell Harry was looking at. “ _Defodio!_ ”

Harry pointed his wand at the wall Draco had run into, and a large portion of stone broke apart from the wall. At first, Draco was sure the block of stone would’ve fallen to the ground, like anything would have done, but the stone piece flew back _towards_ him and Harry. Draco was certain he was a goner, the stone was flying so fast directly towards his face, and he was frozen in fear, not moving at all.

However, in an instant, Harry pushed him out of the way, making Draco stumble a bit. Luckily, he didn’t fall over again. 

The stone chunk flew in between the both of them, continuing its murderous flight across the corridor, until it finally hit a wall and broke into pieces.

“Well that was unexpected,” Commented Harry, wide-eyed in fear and disbelief. He turned to face Draco, softening into concern. “Are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Draco swallowed. “Thank you for… pushing me out of the way.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you dying on me now, I wouldn’t know how to stir the potion properly without you here,” Harry laughed.

“Ha ha, yeah.”

Draco wanted to bring up the moment they had shared when Harry had fallen on top of Draco the second time. But of course, if he couldn’t even bring himself to ask Harry if they were friends, he definitely wouldn’t be able to talk about… whatever had happened between them.

“You know you didn’t have to do that,” Draco said.

“You mean save you?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, that.”

Harry frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“I know we’re not… friends, or whatever. You don’t need to protect me.”

Harry stepped right in front of Draco. There was barely any space between them now, and Draco held his breath.

“I will protect you with my life,” Harry said. He sounded like he meant it. “And-”

“C’mon, we should try out some more spells.” Draco tapped the book, still in Harry’s hand.

“Oh, okay.”

Draco hadn’t wanted Harry to complete his sentence. He knew Harry would say something along the lines of agreeing with Draco’s statement, about how they weren’t friends, and Draco’s heart couldn’t take that agreement. 

They walked next to each other, elbows sometimes bumping, towards the stairs. When they got to the top of the set of stairs, Harry opened the book again, pointing to a spell inside of it.

“This seems pretty cool. Let’s see if it works,” Harry said, pointing his wand at the stairs. “ _Glisseo!_ ”

The staircase automatically turned into a slide, and Draco couldn’t help but gape at the sight. He’d of course seen the change happen when he’d attempted trying to break into the girl’s dormitories, but seeing _Harry_ cast the spell to make the stairs change, was pretty cool.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Asked Harry, clearly anxious to try the frighteningly steep slide, that would possibly move its position any second. “Hold on, are you still hurt?” 

Yes, Draco still felt sore in many places, but his vision was back to normal and nothing hurt terribly. Running into a wall was much more preferred to Draco than getting almost hexed to death by fellow Eighth Years.

“I’m perfectly fine, let’s do this.” Draco walked over to the edge of where the slide started, and sat down, willing the slide not to move. Harry followed his lead and sat down next to him. The slide was surely wide enough for the both of them.

“Together?” Harry asked.

“Together.” Draco nodded.

They moved their bodies in unison, sliding down right next to each other. Draco ended up a little ways in front of Harry, but they were still pretty close.

The same feeling he’d had when running through the halls, Harry chasing after him, encased him, and he felt pure happiness and youth again. Harry was letting out a couple of, “Woohoos,” and Draco split into laughter as they continued to slide.

The slide felt like it could continue on forever, and Draco wished it would’ve. However, he soon saw the end, and braced himself for landing, Harry now several feet behind him.

He hit the floor with a loud _thud,_ skidding to a stop on his arse, and attempted getting up, but found he couldn’t, due to the amount of laughter coming out of him. 

Harry came down right behind him, his feet hitting Draco’s back painfully. He guessed it had been his fault, since he hadn’t moved out of the way when he’d gotten a chance, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about his now aching spine, since he’d just witnessed an experience so wonderfully fun, it would have brought the Malfoy name to shame- even more shame- had anyone seen him sliding down a slide, laughing like a child, with Harry Potter.

Draco turned his body around, looking at Harry who was also filled with laughter. 

“You’ll be the death of me, Harry Potter,” Draco quipped, but found the statement to be filled with some truth. 

Harry shook his head, smiling. “I think you got it wrong. It’ll be the other way around.”

“Unlikely,” Draco challenged.

Harry widened his eyes. “Wanna bet?”

“Not really, no.”

They picked themselves up off the floor, and Harry was about to open back up the book when Draco took the opportunity to grab it out of his hands. Harry gave a small _tisk,_ but let Draco hold onto the book.

“This looks promising,” Draco said, showing Harry the page he was looking at. It was a spell that could reveal hidden passageways, and knowing Hogwarts, there was certainly an abundance that they could possibly find. 

“Okay, let’s do this.” Harry took out his wand, and Draco assumed that even though Harry had said ‘let’s,’ plural, he concluded he’d be the one casting the spell.

“I can cast my own spells, thanks,” Draco scowled.

Harry pocketed his wand, clearly sheepish. “Alright, go on.” He gestured to a wall closest to them, and Draco took a deep breath, focusing on channeling his magic.

It was a simple spell, like Draco had said before; it was in a children’s book. However, that fact didn’t make the prospect of casting a spell in front of Harry any less terrifying. He was afraid he’d slip up, and make a fool of himself. It wasn’t exactly likely that scenario would happen- he was a very talented wizard. But the feeling in his stomach he’d felt earlier when Harry was on top of him, resurfaced, along with some self-doubt, and he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. 

He steadied himself, and took one last glance down at the page in front of him before casting, “ _Dissendium!_ ”

Out of all spells, he wasn’t positive why he’d pick that specific one. There were much more ‘fun’ and exciting spells encased in the book, and yet he chose a spell that he wasn’t sure would work. You had to cast the spell directly at a place where there was a hidden passageway, it couldn’t locate one for you, you just had to know the location of one and it revealed it for you.

The chances of Draco casting the spell at a spot containing a passageway were one in a million. There were more than thousands of walls inside and outside of Hogwarts, along with passageways hidden away behind portraits and statues and whatever place a witch or wizard could find. 

The wall the spell had hit, revealed a hidden passageway, and Draco felt the need to scream.

Harry withheld the expression of someone who had just won a million galleons, and the feeling inside of Draco spread like wildfire. He couldn’t deduce the feeling, and even if he’d wanted to before, his full focus was now directed at the newly revealed door before his eyes.

“See! Luck! We’re lucky!” Harry clearly wanted to bounce up and down, but he was holding himself back from the movement because Draco was with him. Honestly, Draco could care less if Harry wanted to act like a child; Draco wanted to bounce up and down too.

“Back to the luck thing, Harry?” Draco asked. Always talking about _luck,_ Harry was. “If you truly believe that we’re blessed with luck, why are we in this situation in the first place, hmm?”

“I would like to know that myself. But what I do know, is that even though we’re in this horrible situation, we’re having a streak of luck, and you can’t deny it.”

Draco could deny it, truthfully. They weren’t able to get the spell to break the ward to work, and some evil wizard offered Draco a horrible deal. Instead all he said was: “Sure, Harry.”

Harry didn’t respond, instead he walked over to the door Draco had made appear. Draco followed after him, and they stood side by side staring at the intricate wood-work on the door.

The door was a deep forest green, embedded with designs of fairies and magic sparks, and what Draco was sure was some sort of waterfall. It was definitely a special door that led to a special room of some sort. Draco itched to turn the handle and waltz inside, but he knew it wouldn’t be safe to do so. It could be a trap. 

As if he was reading Draco’s mind, Harry cast a spell that detected presences of dark magic. Something he probably learned during his Auror training over the summer. The thought made Draco’s blood boil for a second; Harry becoming an Auror. He could do something so much better with his life.

“Shall we go in?” Harry asked, excited. 

“Wait, look at that.” Draco pointed to some words carved into the door. They read: Hortus de Mystica. “Garden of Mystics,” Draco told Harry.

Harry gave him an incredulous look. “You know latin, now?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ve known latin probably since I was ten. I also know french.”

Harry mumbled, “Of course you do.”

“There’s something else carved into the door,” Draco observed. It was near the design of the waterfall. Having said that, when Draco saw what other words were carved, his stomach dropped. 

“Kaspian,” He and Harry both said at the same time. Draco with intense dislike, and Harry with no emotion at all- maybe a tiny hint of surprise.

It wasn’t Alec Kaspian, though, Harry’s sort-of-friend. It was someone named Drys Kaspian, scrawled next to someone named Olive Brightly, with a messy heart drawn in between the two names.

“That's… interesting,” Harry stated.

“Harry, are those the names of Kaspian’s parents?”

“Yeah, they are.” Harry was staring at the names like they weren’t, though.

“You said he’s Muggle-born, right?”

“Yeah, technically. Drys and Olive were born to Muggles, but they were obviously magical themselves.” Harry swept his finger over the signatures. 

“Wait, so you’ve met his parents, right?” Harry was silent. “Harry?”

“I’ve met his dad.”

“Why not his mum?” Draco glanced at the signatures. “Olive Brightly? You haven’t met her?”

“She’s dead, Draco.” Harry’s voice was strained.

“Didn’t you say Alec’s family was fine? When we were walking back from Hogsmeade you said…”

“I said that because Alec didn’t want people knowing about his mum. In reality their family isn’t fine, and his dad is _very_ cold-hearted. I’m sure he wasn’t always like that, but when Olive died during the war… everything changed.”

“When did you meet Alec?” Draco was genuinely curious. He also didn’t want to stray to the topic of the war at the moment, he was sure his role would somehow be brought up.

“This past summer. The same day I met his dad, and the last day. When Hogwarts opened back up again in September, Drys left the country. He was in grief, I’m guessing, and had to get away from England. Kind of shitty to leave Alec behind, which is probably why Alec behaves like he does to everyone; his dad fled the country without him. _That_ mixed with his own grief for his mother is why I think he acts so… mean.” Harry finished, and was shifting uncomfortably. 

Draco wanted to know more. He wanted to know how Harry had met Alec, and if Alec’s dad was coming back to England, and how Olive had died during the war. Maybe Draco’s family had imprisoned her. Instead he nodded his head, and returned his attention back to the door.

“Should we go in, now?” Draco looked at Harry, who was noticeably back to his normal self.

“Definitely.” Harry was filled with excitement again, and he was about to reach for the door handle when he turned to face Draco. “Together?”

“Together,” Draco agreed.

He felt like the two of them had now claimed the word ‘together,’ and he most certainly didn’t mind.

Harry pushed open the door to the Garden of Mystics, and they walked in side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're getting close (kind of) to the climax of the story. The events that happen in the next chapters are literally what I built this story around and even though it's taken me forever to get to this point, I'm finally here and ready to make this story all come together!
> 
> Also, I am finally finished school! I will have more time to write but I don't think I'll be posting more frequently since the next chapters are going to be pretty lengthy and full of angst and will require a shit ton of editing to make sure I included everything I wanted to include.
> 
> Thank you all for over 1000 hits, that's truly insane! 
> 
> Next update sometime next week <3


	10. Inexplicably Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "May I have this dance?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware: Mixture of angst and fluff ahead. Read at your own risk ;D
> 
> (This chapter is my longest yet with almost 9k words. I hope you enjoy it)

As they walked in, the door automatically closed behind them, and Draco was hit with an overwhelming, but most certainly welcome, breeze of fresh, cool air.

He took a quick glance around, wondering where the current of air was coming from, but found no windows. The place was also immensely bright, filled with sunlight, which didn’t make any sense, since how could light get through when the room was all brick, mossy walls; no skylights or windows or anything that could provide light. It was also late at night, which made it obvious someone would have had to cast a spell that created sunlight.

He almost started laughing to himself as he realized he’d been standing there thinking about wind and sunlight, when Harry was clearly in awe at the Garden as a whole.

Draco couldn’t blame him, the Garden of Mystics was the most stunning place he had ever seen. That said a lot, since he liked to believe his own garden back at the Manor was lovely, but the Garden of Mystics undoubtedly out-shined any other location by far.

They both stepped in farther, proceeding slowly and carefully. 

Draco took in the wonderful sight before his eyes. The floor was covered in cobblestones with tiny flowers and moss in between all the crevices, the walls mirrored the floor, with large amounts of moss and vines. In the very center of the room, a water fountain stood, spitting out water and letting it fall into the pool below, encased by the same bricks that made up the walls. Surrounding the water fountain and outer rim of the Garden, several wooden benches stood, along with different kinds of plants and flowers. 

The entirety of the room was pretty small, but it was a cozy type of small. There was certainly enough room for about twenty people in total, not that the number of people that could fit in the room would be a problem, considering he and Harry were the only Wizards around. 

Even when the curse was broken, Draco figured no one else would come in here; he doubted anyone even knew this room existed. The Garden didn’t look like it had been visited in many years, maybe even a decade or so. 

Once again, his mind wandered to silly questions, like how were the flowers and other types of organisms alive? Sure, the plants had sunlight coming from… who knows where, possibly a spell, but what about the soil and water needed? From what he could tell, the plants were growing out of the cobblestone, and there were no traces of water to be found. The only conclusion he could come up with was that whoever had created the Garden had spelled it, allowing the plants to grow without their usual necessities.

It would require a _very_ powerful Witch or Wizard to create such spells, and he’d never even heard of Wizards who could create sunlight, or plants that could grow without water or some type of soil. He never really thought about it before; he paid attention in Herbology but not _that_ much attention. 

Drys Kaspian or Olive Brightly could have possibly created the spells, keeping the plants alive. It was a likely idea, since their names were scrawled on the door which allowed him and Harry entrance into the Garden.

A nagging voice entered the back of his head, saying how Drys and Olive were Mudbloods, and Mudbloods weren’t strong Wizards, and couldn’t possibly create this Garden with organisms, living off of artificial sunlight alone. He quickly shook his head, willing the thought to leave his brain, telling himself _that isn’t true._ Muggle-borns were just as powerful as Purebloods. No question about it.

He wondered that if Harry could hear the intrusive thoughts piling inside his mind, would Harry run as far away from Draco as he could get? Would he not want to sleep in the same room as him? Would Harry not even take a chance at becoming his friend if he could hear all the horrible thoughts entering Draco’s brain?

“Draco, this- this place is amazing!” Harry exclaimed, cutting through Draco’s introspection. Harry had his back to Draco, sticking his hand into the water.

“That’s an understatement,” Draco remarked, walking towards the water fountain and sitting down at a bench closest to where Harry was standing, still sticking his fingers into the falling water like a child.

Although, Draco knew he shouldn’t be judging Harry, considering he was the one who started their childish rampage throughout the castle.

Harry shook his hand, flinging water droplets onto Draco, which led to Draco shoving Harry slightly in a playful way, almost causing the tosser to fall into the fountain.

“See, you _will_ be the death of me,” Harry laughed, sitting down beside Draco, their thighs brushing somewhat.

“I hardly think that if I pushed you into the water fountain, you would die. You’re being just a tad overdramatic, you git.” Draco nudged his shoulder to Harry’s.

Harry gave a sarcastic sigh. “Yeah, whatever.”

Draco reluctantly took out his wand, not wanting to see what time it was, but cast a _tempus_ anyway. “Hey, we should head to Slughorn’s classroom, it’s nearly twelve,” Draco said.

Harry’s eyebrows nearly flew off his forehead. “Nearly twelve? Wow, I didn’t know it was so late.”

Draco stood up, pocketing his wand and taking one last look at the Garden. “Yep. Now c’mon, we don’t want to miss the time stamp.”

“Fine.” Harry stood next to Draco, also looking out at the beautiful garden. “But, we should definitely come back here again. This can be like our little hang out spot; a reward after a long day of practicing defensive spells.”

Draco didn’t really need as much of a ‘reward’ as Harry did, considering how every time Harry practiced, he sat on his arse reading books. But, he did like the idea of spending every night before he had to brew the potion, in the Garden of Mystics, alone with only Harry’s company.

“Yeah, I like that idea a lot,” Draco said.

They left the room, and once they were outside the entrance, the wooden door carved with designs completely disappeared, going back to the original, plain stone wall.

“What floor are we on?” Draco asked while peering at his surroundings, searching for any indications on where they were. Sadly, as much as he knew Hogwarts, the corridors all looked the exact same to him.

“This is the fifth floor, east side,” Harry stated. “I’m guessing.”

Draco marveled at Harry. “And how do you know this? You’re the last person I would have thought would know the layout of the castle.”

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed, glaring slightly at Draco. Although, he didn’t seem to be too upset at the insult. “I’ll tell you how I know the layout pretty well, but you can’t tell anyone. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I have this map. It shows all of Hogwarts, along with all its occupants and where they are every second of the day.”

“So you’re a stalker?” Draco huffed, then came to a realization. “That completely explains sixth year and how you always knew where I seemed to be! You are a stalker!”

Harry was taken aback. “No! _No._ That was just one year, and to be fair, you _were_ up to something.”

Draco felt like giving a quick little laugh and saying “All right, enough on that topic, let’s go back to talking about how you’re a stalker!” Instead, he turned slightly away from Harry, not wanting him to see the shame in his eyes.

Harry continued, “I don’t really use it anymore, though. It’s back in my room in Gryffindor tower.”

“So you’re telling me, we had a map to this entire school, a map that would let us see if anyone else was moving around, and instead we traveled the school daily, checking for people?” Draco was incredulous.

Harry bit down on his lip. “Sounds about right, yeah.”

If this had been the first or second day hanging around Harry, Draco would have started yelling at him. But, over the past week, Draco had grown to enjoy hanging out with him, and knew if he started screaming at the Chosen One, all the progress they’d made with each other would be completely ruined.

“Let’s just… get the map sometime from your dorm. It could come in handy,” Draco opted to say.

If Harry was waiting for Draco to start throwing insults, he didn’t show it. “Yeah, sure.”

They made their way towards the dungeons, and Draco wondered what would happen to the stairs they had turned into a slide, along with the wall that now had a chunk of stone carved out of it. 

In all honesty, it was the least of their problems, so he decided not to add it onto his growing list of worries. If he came across the slide and wall again, maybe he would do something to fix it, but it truly seemed like a problem that could wait to be solved after everyone was awake. 

He hoped McGonagall wouldn’t contact his probation Auror to tell him that Draco had vandalized the school. He was counting on the fact that since he had brewed a potion that saved everyone, the vandalization would be overlooked.

Once they arrived at Slughorn’s classroom for the night, and they both took their usual positions- Draco stirring intently and Harry sitting on a table- Draco noticed the atmosphere seemed off. That was, the atmosphere between him and Harry. 

He thought he knew why, though. They hadn’t really talked in depth about this coming Friday. It was now about five minutes into Tuesday, and Friday was creeping up on them insanely fast. The potion would be finished and they would attempt to (somehow) give it to Hogwarts’ and Hogsmeade occupants. Because they were avoiding talking about the subject of the potion actually working, they also had been avoiding discussing how they were going to distribute the potion to everyone.

Snape’s book hadn’t provided the steps to distribute the Restorative Potion, but Draco had been thinking they’d possibly use their last question from Snape’s book to get their answer, however, he hadn’t clued Harry in on his thoughts. 

He was sure Harry would agree, but broaching the subject made everything so real.

They couldn’t fuck up.

\---

“Draco, tell me what’s _wrong_. Maybe I can help.”

“No-” _Pain_. “You can’t-” _More pain_. “Help!” _Unbearable amounts of_ pain. “ _Fuck_.”

They were walking back to the Room of Requirement when the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm started burning and moving like crazy. Luckily, they had been about a minute away from the Room, so Draco sped up his pace the rest of the way, Harry trailing behind in confusion.

Every single part of his body had been telling him to grip his forearm and sooth the pain, but he couldn’t. Not with Harry around. He would’ve known right away something was wrong and probably forced Draco to show him the Mark.

Once Draco had stepped into the Room of Requirement, he bolted to the bathroom, locking the door manually and with multiple spells. 

Here they were now, Draco grasping the edge of the sink and Harry consistently knocking on the door, not leaving well enough alone.

“Harry, just _leave_. I have to go to the bathroom _really bad._ Leave.” It was a halfhearted attempt at an excuse, he knew that Harry knew something bigger was going on. As much as Draco believed Harry was undeniably daft, Harry wasn’t so daft as to not see Draco’s fear and restlessness as he ran into the bathroom, an obvious cue something was wrong.

Draco didn’t dare pull up his sleeve and look at the dark ink. There was a Muggle razor on the sink, and he was not strong enough to resist the urge to drag it across his arm at the sight of the Dark Lord’s Mark.

He had made extra attempts at avoiding the Mark whenever he took a shower and got dressed the past week; although it wasn’t like he _wanted_ to look at the wretched thing. He was only ever tempted when it started writhing; it made him want the damned thing gone more than ever. 

He’d gotten kind of used to the faint hum of the Mark over the past week, which was it’s usual state. However, like right now, the Mark burned so painfully Draco was almost always thrust into flashbacks of when he lived with the Dark Lord. Not something he wanted to recount. 

Draco had a horrible, sickening feeling that the figure was sending some kind of message, telling Draco to _make the right decision_. Which, in the cloaked man’s mind, was to betray Harry even more than Draco already had. 

He hadn’t heard back from his father about whether or not Lucius’ Mark had come alive again too, and he hoped his father would answer back before Sunday, that was, if he was awake.

“Draco!” Harry screamed. Draco rolled his eyes and gripped the sink harder. “I will break down this door!”

Draco wanted to scream back at Harry, but all his energy was focused on not having a massive anxiety attack, and not raking the razor across his forearm. Both things that were incredibly hard not to do when someone was banging on a door and yelling at you, aggravating you even more.

“Shut UP!” Draco finally snapped, and for a second he was sure he was about to pull the sink right out of the ground. “Stop being incredibly nosey and mind your own business for once, Potter!”

“Whatever it is, _Malfoy_ , I won’t judge you. I went through the same war you went through, if it’s flashbacks or-”

Draco brought his volume down an octave, but he was still the same level of ticked off. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to come out of this bathroom in a couple minutes, you’re going to leave me alone, and we’re going to sleep.”

Draco heard Harry shout an almost inaudible “Ugh!” as he presumably left the door, hopefully realizing Draco wasn’t going to let up and say anything.

Like he did most days, Draco splashed water on his face, turning the faucet to the coldest temperature possible, hoping the cold water would distract him from the pain.

He did a couple breathing exercises, ones that Elizabeth, the Eighth Year’s group therapist who Draco hadn’t thought of in more than a week, had taught them how to do. He knew he spent more time in the bathroom than just a couple minutes, but he didn't care. Harry would probably complain some more when he got out, but that was his problem, not Draco’s.

The Mark had calmed down, an almost bearable amount of pain crawling up his arm, and Draco knew he had to leave the bathroom and go to bed.

He made a tiny crack in the door, peering out to see if Harry was waiting silently to stun him, and possibly force Draco’s secrets out. Fortunately, he saw no sign of Harry, and the lights were off, which meant he was most likely lying in bed awake, or already asleep.

Draco stayed in the bathroom a tiny bit longer to get ready for bed, and once he was finally done, he realized he was nervous to face Harry, if he wasn’t asleep yet.

As he was about to slip into his Slytherin green covers, he thought he heard Harry whisper his name. However, he was tired, and most certainly imagining it. Harry was mad at him and wouldn’t be calling him _Draco_. It seemed they were back to Potter and Malfoy now.

“Draco!” Harry definitely spoke. Okay, maybe there _was_ some hope that they weren’t back at square one.

“Po- Harry. What?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

Draco still found it weird that Harry was the one constantly apologizing. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he apologized to Harry, and he, without a doubt, had way more shit he needed to apologize for than the Gryffindor did. Draco wanted to apologize for everything, but he could never find the right moment, or the right words to start the conversation.

Draco swallowed. “Okay.” He had every opportunity to apologize right now to Harry, he knew, but he first wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

Harry went on, “I realize you don’t have to tell me every aspect of your life. I would be completely hypocritical, since I obviously don’t tell you every aspect of mine, but I do want you to know you can talk to me. I’ll be here for you.”

Harry was so sickeningly sweet and sincere, Draco couldn’t fathom how he had gotten to this point in his life where Harry bloody Potter was offering him emotional help.

“Thank you. I just- I need time. But really, thank you for offering to listen to me,” Draco said, his voice almost a whisper.

He was about to finish burying himself under the warm blankets, when he felt his heart give a small tug, leaving a burning ache traveling throughout his body. He tried to push away the feeling that was attempting to wrap around his insides, but he couldn’t this time. The worst part was, he now thought he knew why he constantly had this strange feeling, a feeling that only came over him whenever he was talking, looking, or anywhere near Harry. 

“Draco?” Harry’s voice was raspy, heavy with sleep.

Draco blinked, immediately wondering if Harry could hear his thoughts. “Yes?”

“Do you- uh want to… doyouwanttosleepnexttome?”

“Okay, now say that again, but slower, this time.”

Harry huffed, and Draco heard the rustling of covers coming from Harry’s side of the room. “So… do you want to- sleep? In bed. Next to me.”

Draco had not been expecting that. “Yes.” His answer came out abrupt, and Draco hoped Harry couldn’t tell how desperate Draco was to sleep in his bed again.

He threw back the covers, not caring how messy his bed looked, and made a cool and collected stride to Harry’s bed, carefully trying to not trip over anything in the dark and make a fool of himself. It wasn’t like Harry could really see him, especially without glasses, but the thought was humiliating enough.

From what he could see, Harry was sitting up somewhat and allowed enough room on his left side for Draco to sleep comfortably. The covers were pulled back on Draco’s side, and the empty space was practically begging Draco to fill it.

He quickly made himself secure and snug in Harry’s bed, and he wished Harry was asleep so that he could touch his overly soft hair. Draco knew the thought was creepy, but no one ever had to know what he was thinking except himself.

“Thanks for doing this,” Harry murmured.

Draco closed his eyes, taking in how Harry’s bed was much more comfortable than his own; or maybe it wasn’t the bed that made him feel like that. “No problem.”

“It’s just, that night you slept next to me, was probably one of the most peaceful nights I’ve had in a long time,” Harry explained.

“Oh.” Draco’s heart did a flip. “That’s good.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a minute, and Draco thought he’d fallen asleep. “Yeah,” he whispered eventually.

He turned away from Harry as he said: “Goodnight.” He hoped since he wasn’t facing Harry, he wouldn’t be able to hear Draco speak, but, nonetheless, Harry told him goodnight back, tugging on the covers a little.

In that moment, Draco realized two things.

One: The Dark Mark hadn’t hurt at all ever since he had climbed into Harry’s bed.

Two: He most definitely, inexplicably, undoubtedly, had a crush on Harry Potter.

\---

Draco had no clue what to do with himself ever since he’d come to the realization that he fancied Harry. Granted, it was a lot to take in, especially when he had a million other things to deal with.

He tried to pinpoint the exact moment when he had developed his futile crush, but found he couldn’t choose one specific moment to blame. It was a series of moments and conversations and years of jealousy and hatred rolled up into a messy ball of unrequited feelings.

He thought of all the years of animosity between them, and how _that_ had turned into real affection towards Harry. He thought of Harry yelling at him on the other side of the bathroom door, and how he’d found Harry _so fucking annoying._ He thought of how Draco had saved Harry’s life in Malfoy Manor, and how Harry had saved Draco’s life in the Fiendfyre. He could conjure up thousands of memories between them, good and bad (mostly bad), and yet he still could not figure out what had led him to care for the tosser. 

He knew it had to go back farther than when the sleeping curse had started; there was already something planted inside of Draco from their other years at Hogwarts, and all he needed to awaken that something was to spend time with Harry and only Harry for more than a week, figuring out the curse together, walking around Hogwarts together, sleeping _together_. 

Together, together, together. 

Obviously, Harry would never return those feelings. Draco still hadn’t even had the guts to apologize for all of the horrible deeds he had done to Harry and his friends. He was still lying to Harry about plenty of things. 

It was worrisome that once everything was back to normal at Hogwarts, Draco’s feelings _wouldn’t_ go back to normal. He didn’t know how feelings worked, since he’d never experienced this type of affection towards anyone, but he did know that he needed to snap out of his crush and go on with his life, not pining after someone who still hated him.

To make matters more complicated, the person he had feelings _for_ was the savior of the Wizarding World. It was laughable. A Death Eater with a schoolboy crush on the Savior. Luckily for Draco, he could compartmentalize and hide his emotions extremely well. 

It had been two days since Draco had come to his horrible realization, and he’d made sure not to act any differently around Harry. 

Tuesday, after waking up awkwardly next to each other, they’d gone about their day as usual, except instead of spending every second crowded in the library, they made sure to spend a good amount of time in the Garden of Mystics, where they talked and laughed and just sat in the beauty of the garden. 

Wednesday was a repeat of Tuesday, every detail replicated except for the fight that had ensued around twelve thirty in the early hours of Tuesday. Draco’s Mark throbbed a bearable amount, and he had climbed into Harry’s bed without asking permission. Harry didn’t seem to mind.

And even though the week was going by insanely fast, the prospect of spending time in the Garden seemed to ease their minds. It was like the air in the Garden of Mystics had been laced with Calming Drought, erasing all of Draco’s rational and irrational worries. 

To no one's surprise, Draco was reading a random book in the library, while Harry was off practicing new defensive spells. 

He felt extremely giddy and his leg was bouncing up and down; it was impossible to focus on different types of Muggle sea creatures. It was almost time to make their way down to the Garden, and Draco couldn’t stop thinking about spending more time with Harry. 

His mind was filled with one recurring thought and that was: Harry. There was absolutely no room in his cluttered brain to think about the fact that it was Thursday, and the next day they would finish brewing their potion. 

Draco checked the time using his wand, not for the first time in the last ten minutes, and saw that it was finally eight o’clock. He perked up, and lightly tossed his book on a table as he walked over to Harry. “Are you ready?” He didn’t have to explain to Harry what he meant. 

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah. Ready,” Harry said, pocketing his wand and grabbing his bag. “But before we head to the Garden, I wanted to make a quick stop to the Room of Requirement. If that's okay with you.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s fine… did you leave something in there?”

“No, I just- just trust me.”

“I trust you.” 

They walked out of the library, and Draco looked longingly down the corridor that led to the fifth floor. It was stupid, since they were going to eventually make it to the Garden, but making a stop in the Room would take away their already limited time.

Once inside the Room of Requirement, Harry specifically told Draco to wait inside the bathroom. Draco gave plenty of protests and Harry gave plenty of eye rolls. He wouldn’t tell Draco _why_ he had to wait inside the bathroom. But after a minute of arguing, Draco finally gave a dramatic sigh and went and sat on the edge of the sink. He didn’t want to waste any more time.

Finally, after about five minutes, Harry called out for Draco, and he hopped off the sink, hastily opening the door to see what Harry had been up to.

Harry was standing in the middle of the room, with a blanket wrapped up by his feet, along with a brown basket. In his hand was some sort of black box, and Draco assumed it was a weird Muggle contraption.

“Harry, what is all this?” Draco walked closer to the center of the room, eyeing all the stuff around Harry.

“Well, I could tell you're stressed-” Harry ignored Draco’s noises of protests- “And I wanted to do something nice for you. So, I packed a basket full of snacks and a large blanket; we’re going to have a picnic in the Garden of Mystics.”

Draco blanched. “You wanted to do something nice? For me?”

“I feel like I haven’t done shit the past two weeks. You’re the one who brewed the Restorative Potion, which is ultimately going to save everyone. I haven’t done anything to thank you for brewing the potion while I sat on my arse staring at you.” Harry blushed. He hadn’t wanted to share the last part, that was for sure.

Now was another perfect time to thank _Harry_ for all that he’d done. Not just in the last two weeks, but in the past year; for saving his life multiple times. “Thank you,” Draco started. “Not just for- for. Uh, I mean, thank you for setting this all up. It’s very kind of you.” He wanted to smack himself for being a coward _again_ and not having the courage to properly thank Harry, and maybe apologize to him for everything at the same time.

“It’s really no problem. I didn’t even do any work, really. The Room of Requirement provided me with everything,” Harry said.

“Well, you still had the idea.” Draco walked closer to Harry, lightly touching the box-contraption with different sized knobs and gadgets attached. “What is this thing?”

“Oh! Right. It’s a Muggle radio. Different than a Wireless used by Wizards. I’ll show you how it works when we get to the Garden.” Harry grabbed the basket using his free hand, and Draco grabbed the blanket.

“Wait, before we go, shouldn’t we get changed?”

Harry set the objects down on the ground as he regarded Draco. “What do you mean?”

Draco looked down at his Muggle attire, and then looked back up at Harry. “Well, if we’re going on-” He stopped himself. He was going to say _a date,_ because that was how he imagined the event really was in his head. But obviously Harry was doing the favor as a… friend? Maybe. A nice friendly gesture to show he was thankful for Draco’s help. Not a date in the slightest. “Never mind. Let’s go, then. Shall we?”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry was certainly confused.

\---

The Garden of Mystics was exactly how they had left it, not that it came as a surprise to either of them.

Harry led the way into the room, and settled at a spot directly in front of the fountain, setting down the basket and the black box thing that was possibly called a radish. The word didn’t seem entirely correct, but he felt it was close enough. 

Draco joined Harry and laid out the patterned blanket, smoothing out the fabric so that there weren’t any bumps. Harry picked up the food basket and placed it in between the two of them as they sat down, and placed the radish on the closest bench. 

While Draco had been busy admiring pretty much every aspect of the Garden, Harry had sorted through the food, laying it out in their respective categories. There was a section of sweets which consisted of treacle tart, pudding, and chocolate. The other section was a variety of sandwiches, another was an assortment of fruits and veggies, and the last was cartons of pumpkin juice. Draco was not particularly hungry, since they had eaten dinner not to long ago, but he picked up a sandwich anyway.

“Harry, this is seriously very kind. Thanks for doing this,” Draco said after he swallowed his food.

Harry set down his sandwich. “It was really no problem. I just noticed how stressed you were, and-” He shrugged, picking up his sandwich again.

They were still ignoring the Hippogriff in the room: tomorrow the potion would be ready. Draco supposed he could lightly bring up the subject while they were both in a good mood, but that right there was the problem. They were both in a good mood. Draco didn’t want to ruin that. Harry had thoughtfully planned out this night in the Garden, and he supposed if Harry was ready to bring up the Restorative Potion, they would talk about it then.

“So, Draco Malfoy, tell me,” Harry took a bite out of a large piece of treacle tart. “Why did you return to Hogwarts for eighth year?”

“Why did _you_ return for eighth year?” Draco countered.

“No, no, no. I asked you first.” Harry smirked. Draco wished he wouldn’t, though. First off, it was _his_ signature facial expression, or whatever. Second, Harry looked incredibly handsome when he was smug, and made Draco hyper-aware of his so-called _feelings_ for the man he was supposed to hate.

“Okay, I’ll tell you just because you asked so politely,” Draco deadpanned, which made Harry laugh, which made Draco smile. Damned chain reactions. “I heard about eighth year the day of my trial. My first thought was that it would be way better than just sitting at home doing nothing but sulk. My second thought was that I would never be able to get a job at all without my NEWTs. My third thought was that I absolutely despised the manor and didn’t want to stay in it any longer.”

Harry nodded his head. He was also looking intently at Draco, and had long since dropped his food back on his plate. 

At the moment, Harry was the only thing in Draco’s world. The only person who could make time itself stop, just by existing. He wondered, by the way Harry’s eyes sparkled when he looked at Draco, if the feeling was mutual. 

“That’s understandable.” Harry said. “But didn’t you worry about, you know, people at Hogwarts-”

“Hating me? Wanting me dead?” Draco offered. “Yes. I knew they would. The looks everyone gave my family and I when we were escorted through the Ministry was nauseating, and they were all people I’d never met in my life. So, of course, the students I had personally bullied and made fun of back at Hogwarts would be even more upset with me. It only made sense. But the three reasons I had _for_ leaving outweighed my denial of returning, in the end.”

Draco asked himself when it had become easier to talk about the war, and his trial, with Harry. Sure, he still felt uncomfortable and had a desire to flee from the conversation, but the way Harry was looking at him made him feel safe. It made him feel like Harry understood everything he said and related to it, even though he didn’t.

“I guess it’s my turn to tell you my reason for returning.” Harry brushed crumbs off of his trousers. “The world felt off, after the war. I was living with the Weasleys and they were great and all, very loving and sweet, but the atmosphere in the house was wrong. I thought it was because of Fred’s death, and I think that was a part of it, but I knew it was something else. I reckoned I needed a change of scenery, you know? I didn’t get out of the Burrow that much over the summer, and mostly stayed in bed. I knew something was wrong with me, and I figured returning to Hogwarts would fix whatever was wrong with me.”

Harry looked like he was about to cry, but he didn’t. Draco was hanging onto Harry’s every word, and knew he probably looked like a dog begging for food, but he was too engaged in Harry’s story. He could honestly make a very clear picture in his mind of Harry lying in bed all summer, moping and being miserable. It’s what Draco did all summer, while he waited for September first.

Harry continued, “I went to Hogwarts looking for something. Anything. Anything that would fill the emptiness inside of me and all around me. I-”

“Did you find it?” Draco interrupted. He couldn’t help himself but ask.

“You mean did I find what I was looking for?”

Draco was still hanging onto Harry’s every word. “Yeah.” 

“Prepare to be disappointed. No, I didn’t find it. Whatever ‘it’ is.” Harry closed his eyes, and leaned back against the stone that built up the water fountain. 

“The year is not over yet, though. You still have plenty of time,” Draco added, tapping into his optimistic side.

Harry gave a small chuckle, which Draco knew meant Harry had already given up on whatever he was looking for. It was a depressing realization. The Boy Who Lived had given up, due to pain caused by a war he had ended. A more depressing realization was: if Harry hadn’t found his ‘something,’ Draco would never be able to find his either.

“Speaking of the Weasleys, what happened to you and… girl Weasley?” Draco asked, not wanting to think about how he would never find happiness any longer. 

Harry opened one of his eyes to peer at Draco, who was fiddling with his jumper. “Ginny and I just didn’t work out. I was gone for more than half a year last year, and I don’t know if things can ever be repaired between us in a boyfriend and girlfriend way. We’re better off as friends.”

“I'm surprised _The Daily Prophet_ hasn’t gotten word of the real reason why the two of you broke up, seeming as every other aspect of your love life and beyond is out there for the world to read.” 

The real reason, as written by a complete wanker at the prophet, was that Harry cheated on Ginny Weasley, and the girl Weasley found out, promptly breaking up with him.

Harry placed his hands behind the back of his head, creating a makeshift pillow against the hard stone of the fountain. “Merlin, I cannot explain to you how much I hate the fucking _Daily Prophet_.”

 _Now is your chance, Draco. Your chance to say your apologies, starting with how awful you feel about ruining Harry’s credibility fourth year._ Draco took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing._ “Harry, I’m sorry. For- for fourth year. When I said and reported those horrible things that ended up in the prophet.” Draco was trembling now, but he knew he needed to keep up the momentum. “I was such a dick back then, and I regret everything I did. I realize now that what I did to you and your friends was wrong in so many ways. I know apologies don’t really do shit, but I really am sorry, for everything, and I don’t expect you to forgive me now or ever.” 

Harry was looking at him like he grew another head, and Draco honestly couldn’t blame him. He realized half way through his shitty apology that it _really didn’t_ mean anything. He executed way too many horrible deeds in his past, and Harry was probably going to laugh at him for his lame attempt at asking for… whatever he was asking for.

The Garden of Mystics suddenly felt freezing, the air going frigid with silence. Draco wished he hadn’t said anything at all. 

“Draco, I-” Harry started, then stopped briefly to lick his lips and run a hand through his hair, which did all sorts of things to Draco. “I accept your apology. I don’t know if I can forgive you for everything quite yet, but I can tell that you’ve changed, or at least you're working on changing, and I admire that.” Harry flicked his eyes to Draco’s as he finished speaking, and didn’t move his gaze away at all. Draco felt like he wasn’t allowed to blink.

“Anyyywayy,” Harry mused. “I believe it is time for you to have your first listen to songs on a Muggle radio.”

Radio. Not a radish. Draco ought to remember that. “Cool,” Draco said nonchalantly, but on the inside, he was jumping with glee.

Harry picked up the _radio_ and placed it in front of him, turning some knobs and licking his lips as he worked intently on trying to get the Muggle invention to work. Why did it have to be licking his lips, Draco thought sourly, why couldn’t he have had some other habit that didn’t make Draco hard.

“Ah, finally.” A strange noise came out of the radio, and Draco almost covered his ears with his hands. Almost. “Okay, so, summer before eighth year I learned this spell that allows you to play whatever song you want on a radio, you just have to think of a song and it will play it.” Harry seemed truly prideful of the spell.

The next thing Draco knew, a slow hum of a song was starting to play out of the radio. As the song started to progress, Draco noticed that it was quite different from songs made in the Wizarding World, but he also noticed he was enjoying the song. His foot was tapping along to the beat, and he scowled at his foot for betraying him. Harry caught Draco’s scowl, and smiled, while starting to dance on his own.

The song seemed to fill the room, and while the Garden felt freezing a couple of minutes ago, it now felt scorching hot. Or maybe that was just Draco’s cheeks burning up while he watched Harry move to the music, a look of euphoria on his face.

While still dancing, Harry took his wand out, and pointed it at the radio, which made the song even louder.

_There's a room where the light won't find you_

_Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down_

_When they do, I'll be right behind you_

_So glad we've almost made it_

_So sad they had to fade it_

_Everybody wants to rule the world._

The lyrics danced around in Draco’s head, and although he had absolutely no clue what the lyrics meant, he found the song incredibly enjoyable. However, he would _not_ dance. He liked watching Harry dance, and that was enough for him. 

At some point Draco had stood up; probably mirroring what Harry was doing, but now he found himself sitting back down on the picnic blanket, drumming his fingers on the ground.

Harry stopped dancing when he saw Draco sit down, and a frown spread across his face. “Don’t you want to dance? Do you not like the song?”

“No, no the song is great. Different than any other song I’ve heard, but great nonetheless.” 

Harry’s frown deepened, and he took his spot across from Draco again on the blanket. “What’s wrong, then?”

In all honesty, Draco just didn’t feel like dancing. He supposed he could tell Harry his reason, even though Harry probably wouldn’t believe him. But Harry had said he wouldn’t intrude and try to force answers out of Draco anymore, as long as Draco wasn’t holding back any crucial information regarding the curse. (Which he was.)

The words that came out of his mouth instead of, “I don’t want to dance,” were much more frightening, and once Draco spoke, he couldn’t take the words back or cover them up with something else. “Harry, are we friends?”

To his surprise, Harry didn’t grimace and tell him that of course they weren’t friends. In fact, he said the exact opposite. “Do you really think that after spending almost two weeks with you and only you, we wouldn’t be friends? Of course we’re friends, Draco. I might have been skeptical at first, but I think that when we’re not fighting, we actually get along pretty well.”

Draco shook his head, confused at Harry’s sweet response. “But I thought you hated me? I mean, I bullied you and your friends. I was- am. A-” _Death Eater._

“I know. I _know_. I haven’t forgotten, believe me.” Harry licked his lips _again_. Probably for the tenth time that afternoon, and Draco grabbed a fist full of the blanket under him.

“Then why do you consider us _friends,_ Harry?”

Harry settled in closer to Draco. It was almost like he was trying to tell a secret. “You were the first person I had met in the Wizarding World, besides Hagrid.”

“How does that have to do with anything-”

“Just listen. You are a constant in my life, Draco. A pain in arse, but a constant whether either of us like it or not. I think back to first year, and I think, if you weren’t such a-”

“Pain in arse,” Draco offered.

“Yeah, that. I think we could’ve been friends. We’re not much different, you and I.”

“We’re very different. I think that the only reason you think that is because we both went through the same war and came out mentally scathed.”

“True. But, there’s something else.” Harry glanced around the room, obviously scared someone was going to walk through the entrance to the Garden of Mystics any second. The idiot. “I was almost sorted into Slytherin. I asked the hat to put me in any house other than Slytherin.”

Draco choked on nothing as he took in Harry’s words. “Damn. Okay. That’s something I never would have expected. You’re as Gryffindor as they come.”

Harry shrugged. “I feel like spending six years in Gryffindor made me more… well, Gryffindor. But at heart I’m a Slytherin.”

“Still, we’re different. If you look past all the war shit, and Slytherin shit, it’s obvious we’re nothing alike.” But Draco was becoming less and less confident of the words coming out of his mouth.

“I like to think of us as two sides of the same coin.”

Draco didn’t have any retorts to respond to Harry’s statement with. In the background, he could hear a new song playing quietly, and he wondered when Harry had turned down the music.

“Draco.” He felt Harry’s hand touch his shoulder slightly, and even though the contact came as a surprise, Draco didn’t flinch. “I’ve known you since… forever. I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Harry,” Draco breathed, aware of how close Harry was to his lips. _Oh my God. Harry Potter is going to kiss me. I’m going to kiss Harry Potter._ “Tell me more about this Muggle music of yours,” Draco added swiftly.

Harry stopped moving for a second, and then recomposed himself and stood up, holding out a hand for Draco to take. 

Draco took it.

Harry pulled him to his feet.

Harry’s hand locked together with his own sent a bolt of lightning coursing through Draco’s veins.

The radio was placed on the edge of the water fountain, and Harry let go of Draco’s hand to go fiddle with the buttons again.

_I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it._

He couldn’t get Harry’s words to stop repeating over and over in his head. It was exhausting and painful and had Harry been going to kiss him? Had Draco been a coward once again and backed out of it? Or was it just his imagination?

“So, how did you find out about these spells that work on a radio?” Draco asked, stopping himself from thinking about their almost kiss.

“Oh, um, Alec taught me them. He also introduced me to rock music and pop music, and well, lots of genres of music,” Harry answered, now pointing his wand at the radio and muttering some charm.

Draco felt a hint of jealousy at the mention of Alec Kaspian. Okay, maybe more than a hint, probably a huge serving size of pure jealousy with a dash of annoyance on the side. “Can you play that song again?”

Harry turned around to face Draco. “What song?”

“The song with the ‘ruling the world’ or whatever.”

Harry snorted, which made Draco blush. “Yeah of course.” The song immediately started playing again, and Harry started to dance, beginning with slow arm and head movements moving to the beat. As the song progressed, Draco realized he’d been staring at Harry the entire time, standing still and doing nothing but blush and blush and _blush_. “Aren’t you going to dance?” Harry sort of yelled, his dancing beginning to become more jumpy.

Draco swallowed, and now he was the one licking his lips in nervousness. “I don’t really dance.”

“Sure you do!” Harry danced his way towards Draco, and grabbed his hand, pulling Draco farther away from where their picnic set up was.

So, they both danced together. Not really ‘together,’ but close to each other. Harry was not embarrassed about dancing, which honestly turned into jumping up and down as they listened to “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” ten times. Even if he was embarrassed, he didn’t show it.

Draco, on the other hand, was extremely embarrassed to dance in front of Harry. But, after a lot of prompting from Harry, Draco finally copied what Harry was doing, even if it was toned down by a great amount.

By the end of their tenth listen to the song, they were both completely out of breath, and couldn’t stop laughing, which didn’t help their out of breath problem. They perched on the water fountain, right next to the radio which was now playing a set of random songs that Harry definitely didn’t ask it to play. 

Draco couldn’t remember the last time he had had so much fun in a single week. Probably before he had come to Hogwarts. The past week had brought more enjoyment to him than the last seven years of his life had. That thought was certainly depressing, and made him even more aware of how fucked up his life was; more concerned about making others miserable to make himself feel better, rather than going out and having genuine fun with genuine friends and making real memories that weren’t based on being a bully.

“Are you up for another dance?” Draco asked Harry, his voice raspy from singing for about thirty minutes straight. 

“I mean, only if you’re up for it.” Harry challenged. The little shit. 

“It’s on.” Only, the song that had been currently playing died down, and was replaced with an exceedingly slow song. That didn’t seem to have any words. And did he mention it was exceedingly slow?

Harry could have changed the song easily by using his mysterious song charm, but he didn’t. He stood in front of Draco, and held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

He could say no. He could run out and hide somewhere Harry would never find him. Not face the inevitable slow dance with the man who he fancied. It was the easy choice. Not facing his feelings.

He was done picking the easy choice.

“Yes,” Draco said.

Harry took Draco’s hand, leading him out to a spot where they wouldn’t have a chance of crashing into anything. Draco had never slow danced with a man before, and he didn’t know how to designate who was supposed to lead and who was to follow. But, Harry, the Gryffindor that he was, took Draco’s hands and placed them on his waist, while Harry placed his own hands on Draco’s shoulders.

“Is this okay?” Harry asked. He was quite nervous, and was failing at trying to hide how shy he really was.

“It’s perfect,” Draco responded.

At first, the whole situation was terribly awkward. There was a huge gap between the two of them, and neither of them seemed to want to close the space. Draco debated on taking the risk and closing the space between them, but Harry got to it first, and their chests were touching. The closeness was intoxicating, however, in the best way possible.

The next song that came on was another slow song, and they both didn’t seem to mind. They stayed pressed against each other, swaying slowly to the song.

Somehow Harry’s hands had moved from grasping at Draco’s shoulders, to hooking his arms around Draco’s neck. Before he knew it, Harry rested his head against Draco’s shoulder. His arms that were still flung around Draco’s neck began to tighten, almost as if he were holding onto dear life. Almost as if Draco was Harry’s only saving grace.

After the second slow song played through, the music stopped entirely, but the two of them kept on swaying, clutching onto each other like the world was ending, crumbling into pieces, and holding onto each other made staying alive so much easier.

In the back of Draco’s mind, he remembered the temperature in the Garden switching from freezing to scolding hot. Now, the temperature was perfect. Everything was perfect. Harry was perfect. Harry was beautiful. Harry was leaning against him and breathing soft, reassuring breaths onto Draco’s neck.

Draco was so lost in the moment, he didn’t even feel Harry’s face lift off of his shoulder until he spoke to Draco in a whisper. “What happened to your hair?” Harry lifted trembling fingers to graze at pieces of hair that were falling into Draco’s eyes; something his hair never did. “Lemme fix it for you.” And so he did. He brushed back all the strands that were out of place, settling the pieces behind Draco’s ear.

Instead of Harry placing his head back on Draco’s shoulder, Draco placed _his_ head on Harry’s shoulder, breathing in Harry’s smell that was oh so blissful. He had to lean down the smallest bit, but he nor Harry cared. They kept on holding onto each other, their swaying turning more and more into an embrace where they just stood in the middle of the Garden of Mystics. 

_I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it._

Draco couldn’t imagine his life without Harry in it either. He hoped Harry knew that.

“You’re the best part of me,” Draco muttered into Harry’s neck. 

Draco wasn’t sure of exactly what happened next, but he thought he felt Harry press a soft kiss into his hair. Harry didn’t need to respond to what Draco had just said. The supposed kiss contained a million words that were impossible to say aloud.

Time wasn’t an obstacle anymore when Draco got to hold onto Harry. Nothing was an obstacle when he had Harry by his side. 

Draco had been certain that whatever he had been feeling for Harry was only a simple crush. But now, he was certain, he had found love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments to tell me what you thought of this chapter! It was such a pain, while also fun, to write.
> 
> I'm currently on vacation for my birthday on the 23rd, so I won't be able to write a lot. It will probably be maybe another two weeks until the next chapter, so if I end up not posting for a while I promise I am not abandoning this story


	11. The Third Outcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unwilling test subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to be 10k+ words long, but then I realized I should just cut the chapter in half, since I've been working on it for about 3 weeks and still am not close to being done. So, basically, here's part 1, and I'll hopefully finish the *better* half soon. Sorry for the long wait!

Everything was, to say the least, different… between him and Harry, after their night spent dancing.

It was definitely a good kind of different; odd, weird, slightly embarrassing, but good.

A line of tension that had been between them was cut. A line of tension that Draco hadn’t even known had been there in the first place. Probably building and building ever since they had first met. Probably waiting for them to finally become actual friends; two people that understand and accept each other. (To some extent, at least.)

The idea that him and Harry were now _friends_ was the strangest concept to grasp. They had been friends for some time now, Draco knew, likely for about a week or so. But Harry had flat out said that whatever had been cultivating between them for days and days was utterly, simply, friendship. 

It was weird to have two friends now. Pansy and Harry. Two unlikely candidates that chose to stick around with him. Well, Pansy had definitely been more likely to befriend him, and before they had really become friends, she’d already been his acquaintance for a while. Though, she had more respectable friends to hang out with, she chose him. Harry chose him also. Even though the circumstances were rather extenuating. 

A more frightening thought: Draco _loved_ Harry. 

Love. Four letters. Eight letters if a person was ever brave enough to say, “I love you.” Possibly the most daunting phrase known to Wizarding kind. Perhaps Muggle kind, too. 

Ever since coming to the Earth-shattering revelation that Draco was in love, the revelation that had hit him about an hour ago, everything was upside down, and Draco didn’t know whether anything could ever be right side up again. The real question was, did he want everything to go back to normal now? Now that he’d found _love_ , for Merlin’s sake?

He basically had to re-think everything he had ever known- something he had specifically done only a couple days ago when he’d figured out he had a _crush_ on Harry. He now had to do it once again, for a much, much bigger acknowledgement.

His thoughts were basically the same as when he’d deduced he fancied Harry: Harry’s the savior of the Wizarding World. Harry had been his sworn enemy for years. Harry could never forgive him. How could Draco constantly look into Harry’s eyes, eyes that reflected back to him all the mistakes he’d made? So yeah, all the same, except on a larger scale.

_How could Harry ever love him back?_

Sure, Harry admitted they were friends. Sure, Harry had danced with him for an hour, or longer. Sure, Harry smiled his brilliant smile and his eyes sparkled every time he so much as glanced at Draco, but did all those things- _could_ all those things- lead to love?

Draco wanted to imagine, at the very least, Harry fancied him. He really hoped Harry fancied him, because if not, looking back at their night spent dancing, Draco felt like he wanted to throw up. Knowing that he had said and done things that were entirely inappropriate to say and do with a straight man, who didn’t see Draco in _that_ way at all.

Not like they had done anything… dirty, or whatever. But, resting your head on another man’s shoulder while whispering, “You’re the best part of me,” would come off as completely weird if the other man was straight. 

He hoped his mind wasn’t somehow playing tricks on him, making Draco think he was in love with Harry. He didn’t think that was even possible, since no one could make someone fall in love with another person, but they could manipulate you into thinking you were in love. Something Draco wouldn’t wish upon his greatest enemy. Except for the Dark Lord. Obviously. Or Kaspian. Or Theo. 

The whole sleeping curse had made Draco realize he was in love. He didn’t know how or when he had fallen in love with the Savior, but it had obviously been there for a ridiculously long time, and the sleeping curse had allowed Draco to discover that part of him. He’d been begging for Harry’s attention since he was eleven, and now, looking back on all his attention seeking, it seemed quite obvious he’d always had a thing for Harry.

Beside him, lying in bed, Harry shifted in his sleep, his body now facing Draco’s. Draco brought his hand out from under the duvet, and was about to brush away the fringe that rested against Harry’s brow bone when Harry’s eyes opened a bit, slowly blinking against the darkness, and Draco supposed, his blindness.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice was incredibly soft and cute. Draco wanted to punch himself for thinking such sentimental things for the past _week_. And, to his horrible realization, thoughts that he’d probably grown accustomed to thinking for years and years and years. Ugh. 

“Hi,” Draco said. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Harry asked, and finished with a large yawn.

“Can’t sleep,” Draco spoke honestly.

“Are you sure that’s all there is?”

Draco rolled his eyes, and hoped Harry could see the movement through the darkness. “Yes, Harry, I’m sure.” Although, that time, Draco was lying. It wasn’t because of his Mark, but because of all the thoughts swirling in his mind about Harry. 

“Are you _sure?_ ”

“ _Yes_. I thought you said you would lay off on me a bit.” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I know, it’s just, I worry about you. I want everything to be okay.”

Fuck. Harry was as sentimental a bastard as Draco was. 

Draco nudged Harry with his elbow that was hidden under the blankets. “I promise I’m fine, you git. At least for now.”

The sentence that Draco didn’t have to say, the sentence they were both thinking: _At least for now, until it’s morning, and later that evening we have to finish brewing the potion._ A potion that might not even work.

Harry yawned again, which made Draco yawn. “Okay, well try to get some rest, Draco. Goodnight.”

“Night, Harry.”

\---

“Theodore Nott.”

“Okay… but why?”

“I have my reasons.”

“I thought you two…”

“Yeah, let’s not get into that.”

It was around ten o’clock on Friday, and Draco and Harry were crowded around the bubbling cauldron filled with the Restorative Potion; Snape’s book propped open in Harry’s hands.

They had guessed that they needed to make their way to Slughorn’s room when Snape’s book started ominously glowing. It had made sense, since last Friday night they had finished brewing the Restorative Potion around ten, which now made it exactly seven days since when they had started the potion. It was finally time to test it out, and see if it worked, returning everyone back to their normal state.

Of course, there was the small problem of distributing the potion out to everyone in the school, along with the small problem of how exactly they were supposed to distribute it; they weren’t sure if it was done by a certain spell, or if they had to walk around to every single person in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, opening people’s mouths and forcing the liquid down their throats. 

Draco hoped it was the former option. The prospect of pulling apart random lips while hoping the person with said parted lips didn’t choke on the potion in their sleep, was quite frankly anxiety inducing and disgusting. 

Even though the book had glowed, alerting them that the seven days since they started the potion was up, the glow had not provided instructions on how to issue out the contents of the potion. 

Draco had brought up the idea that they could use their last question they still hadn’t used up in Snape’s book to find a way to distribute the potion, but Harry had talked him out of that by stating they could still need the last question for something more important.

Then, Draco had asked Harry if they should test out the potion on someone first, to make sure it wasn’t poisonous and wouldn’t kill every person who came in contact with it, and Harry had agreed it was a good idea, save for the one problem of who would be their unwilling test subject. Which brought Draco to offering up the name: “Theodore Nott.”

“So, you’re sure you want to test this out on Nott?” Harry asked warily.

“Harry, I am one hundred percent positive.” Draco started to pour some of the green bubbling liquid into a small vial. “But, just in case something does go wrong for some reason, and when people come and find us, noticing Theo is… dead, or something, we’ll just say we had nothing to do with it, alright?”

Harry moved his body closer to Draco, looking intently at Draco’s careful pouring. “That sounds good.”

There were many flaws to the plan, Draco knew. If the Restorative Potion somehow killed Theo, and people found his dead body, realizing he was the only person in the school who had gotten killed, they would probably point fingers at Draco. They could also run diagnostic tests on Theo’s body, which Draco was sure would show he had some type of poison in his system. Once again, everything was likely to be traced back to Draco. One reassuring thought, though: he had Harry Potter on his side this time, and he _knew_ \- he truly believed Harry would defend him.

Also, the potion would work. It would. Optimism, right?

Harry coughed, bringing Draco out of his thoughts. “‘I’m surprised you didn’t want to test the potion out on Alec, since you seem to…” Harry made a grandiose gesture with his wand that was held in his hand, and the wand went flying across the room, hitting the side of Slughorn’s desk. “Whoops.”

“Whoops indeed, Harry.” Draco sighed, and strode across the room to pick up Harry’s wand that had now rolled under Slughorn’s desk. Draco placed the vial of the Restorative Potion he had brought over unconsciously, setting it on the desktop, while bending down to grab Harry’s wand. As his knees hit the floor, he realized he could have just _accioed_ Harry’s wand, and shook his head in self-deprecation. “And to finish what you were saying, I had originally wanted to offer up Kaspian, but I knew you wouldn’t have been pleased.” Draco’s fingertips felt the wood of Harry’s wand, and snatched it quickly, not wanting to touch any cobwebs.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Harry said. “Merlin, isn’t this whole thing weird?”

Draco straightened out his robes- he had put on a Muggle outfit that morning, but grabbed his Slytherin robe to wear on top, since he was cold. It had been the first piece of attire he could find. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Harry. A lot of weird events have happened over the past weeks.” Draco pocketed the vial of Restorative Potion he had left on Slughorn’s desk, and walked to the door, gesturing for Harry to follow him out.

Harry met him at the entrance to Slughorn’s room, taking his wand from Draco’s hand, his fingers lingering a little longer than normal, not that Draco was complaining. 

“It’s just, two weeks ago, hell probably even a week ago, you wouldn’t have cared about what I think,” Harry stated, falling into place besides Draco.

It took a couple of seconds for Harry’s words to register inside his brain, but then he realized Harry was talking about what Draco had said about Kaspian. _“But I knew you wouldn’t have been pleased.”_ Harry was right. He wouldn’t have cared about Harry’s feelings or his thoughts about the situation a week ago, but now, Harry’s own feelings truly mattered to him. “Salazar, Harry, you might actually be right for once,” Draco smirked.

Harry elbowed Draco in the side. “Come off it, you ponce.” 

The wall that held the opening to the Slytherin common room came upon them, and Draco said the password to allow them entrance. As he watched the entryway appear before his eyes, he fiddled around in his robe pockets for the vial he had stuffed away.

“Uh, that’s not the Restorative Potion,” Harry pointed out, a look of befuddlement on his face as he examined the potion vial in Draco’s hand.

“Oh? Do tell, Mr. Potions Master.” Draco smirked. However, he gave a good look at the liquid in the vial himself and saw that it was in fact not the Restorative Potion, but another type of potion that looked quite similar, except for a darker shade of green. “I must have grabbed the wrong potion vial off of Slughorn’s desk.” Draco peered at the green liquid more intensely. “I think this is a vial of the Bloodroot potion we brewed on the last day of class.”

“Stay right here, I’ll go grab the correct vial.” Draco gave Harry an exasperated look that he hoped told him, _you’re leaving me?_ “Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen to me while I’m gone, it will take a minute, promise,” Harry said, already starting his run back towards Slughorn’s room.

“Wait! Harry!” Draco yelled. He was still holding onto the vial of Bloodroot; in Harry’s rush to get the right vial, he hadn’t taken the wrong one back to its original place. “Idiot,” Draco mumbled.

Harry had been right, it had taken him approximately one minute to run to the potions room and back. He was slightly out of breath when he finally reached Draco, holding out the vial that was definitely the correct potion, the liquid inside a lighter shade of green. 

“Here,” Harry said, and Draco clutched the vial tightly. Harry wasn’t even breathing hard anymore, and Draco suspected that if anyone had turned the corner and saw Harry at that exact moment, they wouldn’t have known Harry had just sprinted down the dungeon corridor. 

“You know you forgot to return the Bloodroot vial, right?” Draco lifted an eyebrow.

Harry’s mouth fell open at the realization. “Fuck! I knew I was forgetting something.” He ran a hand through his hair, and Draco had the urge to pat it down, even though he had to admit, when Harry’s hair was extra messy, Harry was extra attractive. If that was even possible. “I’ll go run down to Potions again and-”

“No!” Draco said a little more harshly than intended. He supposed he was just agitated. He really wanted to test the potion out as soon as possible so the Figure wouldn't have leverage over him any longer. “Sorry. I just mean- we’ll return it later. It’s not important. We should test out the Restorative Potion.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right. Let’s get going.”

The two of them entered the Slytherin common room, Draco leading the way towards his dormitory, only stopping briefly to take a quick look at Pansy, to make sure she was alright. Of course, she was, she hadn’t changed positions since the last time Draco saw her. 

The door to Draco’s room was opened; he had left it that way the last time he had entered the dorm to see if anyone had woken up, and he walked determinedly towards Theo’s four-poster, Harry still following his lead. 

Draco pulled apart Theo’s curtains, and glowered down at Theo who was sleeping soundly in his bed, tucked away neatly under his coverlet. 

Two outcomes awaited Draco. On one hand, Theo would awaken from the sleeping curse once the Restorative Potion made its way into his system, and the first person Draco would come face to face with after two weeks of only being around Harry, would be the person who hated his guts, and probably had taken a blade to his Dark Mark just for the fun of it. But, he’d know the potion had worked, and Draco could save everyone.

On the other hand, Theo could be poisoned from the Restorative Potion; his breaths ceasing to exist. He would be blamed for Theo’s murder, and would be sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life. He wasn’t positive if even Harry’s pleas for Draco’s release would be accepted this time round’. The only bright side to that outcome was Theo dying, but at lengthy costs. Though, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself any longer with blood on his hands, even if it was Theo’s blood.

There was only one way to find out what would happen.

He looked to his side, acknowledging Harry’s presence next to him. He must have given off a worried look- or maybe his whole aura was filled with anxiety- because Harry lifted his hand to rest on Draco’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

There was an unspoken agreement between them: Draco would be the one to pour the potion into Theo’s mouth, and Harry was the one who always held possession of Snape’s book. 

Draco returned his attention to Theo, and leaned down closer to his face, Harry’s hand still resting on his shoulder, now gripping the fabric of his robes in anticipation. 

The vial was right in front of Theo’s lips now, and Draco hoped he wouldn’t have to pry them open to force down the potion. Luckily, as the top of the vial parted both lips, and Draco tilted the vial back slowly, he could tell the potion was going down smoothly into Theo’s throat. 

Once the vial was completely emptied, Draco took another look at Harry, who pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Draco melted into the warm embrace, and took a deep breath, letting all his worries flood out of him as Harry wrapped his arms tighter around his waist. After what felt like an hour, which in reality was only really thirty seconds, they both let go of each other and stood to watch Theo’s body. 

The book hadn’t provided them with any information regarding the time span of when the effects should start to work their way through a human’s body, but Draco supposed it worked like any other potion. Which meant, based on logic and knowledge, the effects of a potion should start to work between the time span of a few seconds, and up to five minutes. 

He and Harry stood there for what felt like ten minutes, keeping a close eye out for any changes, and from what they could observe, nothing happened.

Draco hadn’t even thought of the possibility of a third outcome: the potion not working at all. Creating nor life or death.

“So…” Harry started. “Is he- you know-”

“Dead? I don’t think so. He’s still breathing. But, he’s not waking up.” Draco was trying his hardest not to become angry. It was incredibly difficult, when all he could see and think about was red hot anger; angry at himself for not brewing the potion correctly, angry at the world for not letting him have this one victory, and angry at the Figure for foreseeing his failure, somehow. 

Harry shook his head back and forth in disbelief. “This doesn’t make sense. It should have worked. You’re an excellent potioneer, Draco. I know you brewed it right. It must have been the book's fault.”

Draco scoffed. “You could be wrong, you could be right. Who knows. What really matters here is: We. Don’t. Have. A. Cure. We’re stuck in a school with sleeping bodies, and absolutely no means of escape. On top of all that, it’s almost Saturday. Which means it’s almost Sunday. And Sunday, I assure you, something bad will happen.”

“Hey.” Harry rested his hand on Draco’s shoulder once more, and the contact eased some of the anger out of him. “You don’t know that for sure. I know you had those visions, or whatever, and I’m only going off of what you told me, but I honestly don't think Sunday is like an omen of death.”

Draco wanted to shout at Harry and tell him oh how incredibly wrong he was. Harry didn’t know about the offer where Draco was supposed to hand over Harry’s _blood_ by Sunday, or everyone he cared about would die, and everyone who was asleep would stay asleep forever. He had counted on breaking the sleeping curse so the Figure couldn’t use that as leverage over himself anymore, and Draco would have warned McGonagall about everything, and she’d had made everything alright. 

Now it wasn’t possible. Draco would be condemned to watch the Wizarding World fall apart again, all because he had failed, and lied, and hadn’t changed from the Death Eater he had been only less than a year ago.

He realized, solemnly, that he only had one option left, and that was to talk to Harry. Tell him everything he had lied about, and hope Harry could come up with a solution as quickly as possible.

“Draco. Look at me,” Harry said, and Draco forced himself to look up into Harry’s dazzling green eyes. “You did everything you could. You couldn’t have done anything differently. And we don’t know for sure what Sunday is going to bring, but we’ll find out when it happens. Together.”

Well fuck. Of course, it was the classic conundrum. Draco now felt obligated _not_ to mess with Harry’s feelings, since the prat was so soft and kind, and the type of secret Draco was hiding would offset all of that. It would offset whatever emotions Harry felt towards Draco, and Draco was too selfish to ruin it by explaining to Harry he’d been lying to him for the past two weeks. 

He’d find another time to explain everything he was hiding, whenever that would be, but for now, he just had to hope and wish that Sunday wouldn’t be as bad as he thought, and that the visions meant nothing. They could possibly find another way to break the sleeping curse.

There were millions of possibilities that could happen over the next two days, and Draco already knew what he wished one of them would be: for Harry to never stop looking at him like he was now. Eyes full of sweetness and care. 

Draco sighed. “I guess we could wait for a couple hours tomorrow and see if anything changes.”

Harry perked up. “That’s the spirit!” Draco scowled at him. “Well, someone’s tired. I think it’s time to head back to the Room of Requirement.”

“I suppose,” Draco huffed. 

The walk back to the Room was filled with Harry’s consistent blabbering. Not that Draco minded. He liked listening to Harry talk, and his voice was soothing and familiar. 

Draco really was tired, and was at least somewhat glad they didn’t have to wait until twelve anymore to stir the stupid potion for fifteen minutes. Draco could go instantly to bed, curled up in Harry’s warm blankets that smelled of Harry’s soap, and fall asleep with the knowledge of someone right next to him, caring for him and protecting him.

\---

“What are your plans for after Hogwarts?” Harry asked, shifting to look at Draco.

“Are you really asking me this right now?” Draco was absolutely incredulous. “I’m trying to sleep, for your information.”

“I know, but I can’t really fall asleep. I doubt you can either.”

He hated it when Harry was right. Draco hadn’t been able to fall asleep for an hour; tossing and turning and trying to make out the tiny specks on the ceiling. He would have been worried for Harry’s sake because of his consistent movement, but Harry had been doing the exact same thing as Draco for the past hour, neither one of them talking. Until now.

“Alright, Harry, I’ll play your little game. But first, you have to tell me what _you_ want to do after we leave Hogwarts,” Draco insisted. 

“Ugh. Okay, fine. Well, I’m sure you’ve seen _The Prophet_ and all the articles about me becoming an Auror.”

Draco nodded his head, and then realized Harry probably couldn’t see him, so he said: “Yes.”

“It’s a load of bullshit.”

“Oh.” Draco was taken aback. He had been one hundred percent sure Harry was dying to become an Auror. Fighting crime, bringing criminals to justice, and saving the world a hundred times over. He also knew, from his father’s experience working in the Ministry, it was a ton of paperwork and desk work and boring jobs to complete under the Head Auror’s instructions. 

He’d always wanted to clue Harry in on the reality of being an Auror, for the sole purpose of ruining the Savior’s dreams. But now, the only reason he would even think about cluing Harry in on reality, was to save him from being condemned to a horrible profession for the rest of his life.

“The thought of fighting _more_ dark wizards makes me sick. I just want to live the most normal life I can, you know?” Harry said.

Harry’s words were like a punch to the gut. Harry wanted to live a normal life. In no way humanly possible would Harry ever be allowed to live a normal life with Draco. Not that Draco thought about what his life would be like if he and Harry were… boyfriends? Partners? He still hadn’t conjured up the right word to describe their made up relationship in his fantasies.

“I guess I understand.” Draco swallowed, pushing back the bout of nausea that was starting to rise. “I- I want to try and live a normal life as well.” It was a half-lie.

Harry went on, “I think I want to be some kind of teacher. I haven’t thought about it thoroughly, but I like the idea of helping and teaching kids.”

“You know, Harry, I honestly believe that sounds right up your alley,” Draco confessed.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” Draco smiled despite himself.

“What about you? Got any big plans?” Harry implored.

“Ha. I doubt I’ll be able to find a job at all. Though, hopefully, with my NEWTs, at most one person will offer me some kind of job opportunity. I honestly don’t care what it is, as long as I can get some sort of payment.”

Draco just _knew_ Harry was frowning. “Don’t think about that. Just- what’s your dream job? Anything you’ve had your mind on?”

In all honesty, Draco had stopped thinking about life _after_ Hogwarts, probably around the same time when he had stopped thinking about what would come after the Dark Lord’s downfall. Both had seemed like such far-fetched fantasies, he thought it was silly to dwell on them. But in reality, one had already surpassed, and the other was coming up in June.

He thought long and hard on his response, and finally, something came to mind. “This will probably sound ridiculous. But, I sort of briefly thought about becoming a writer?” His sentence turned into a question last minute.

To his surprise, Harry didn’t laugh at him. “That sounds great. I truly believe you can achieve that, Draco.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said. 

Draco felt like Harry was lying. But, he felt comforted by Harry's acclamation. At least for a couple minutes, until he finally fell asleep.

\---

Whoever praised optimism was a right foul tosser, for the sole fact that the idea ‘if you think things are going to go precisely how you want them to go, then they will’, was right. Which was so far from right Draco didn’t even know where to start. 

So far, all of Saturday he and Harry constantly looked at Theo’s spot on Harry’s map, and so far, Theo hadn’t moved even the slightest inch.

It was becoming so tiring, staring at a spot on the map, that Draco heavily considered trudging over to Slytherin and shaking Theo until he woke. In hindsight, it was a good plan. 

Harry had gotten bored of staring at the Map, which surprised Draco, since he guessed Harry had loads of practice staring at the piece of parchment during his years at Hogwarts. So, he started practicing defensive spells once again.

Draco wasn’t exactly sure if Harry was now casting defensive spells because he believed something horrible would happen tomorrow that they needed to prepare for, or if he just simply hated sitting around. He took a wild guess, and came to the conclusion that Harry just hated sitting around, from what he’d observed the past two weeks. And, Friday night, Harry had specifically told him he didn’t think Sunday was an omen of death. Draco really hoped Harry was right.

The piece of parchment was still laid out in front of Draco though, while he watched Theo’s dot. He couldn’t occupy himself with anything else, since he was afraid he’d miss a movement from Theo if he was distracted.

As if the universe could hear his thoughts, Draco heard a soft rapping at what he presumed was one of the far windows of the library, promptly diverting Draco’s attention.

“You hear that, right?” Harry asked, scared shitless from the sound, from what Draco could tell. 

Draco snatched the Map, letting it hit the side of his leg as it hung limply in his hand. He moved towards the sound at the back of the library. “Stay here, I’ll go check it out,” Draco announced.

“How very Gryffindor of you,” Harry remarked as he started walking towards the sound himself, completely disobeying Draco’s wishes.

“Very funny. But seriously, go back to casting. I’ll find out what’s making the noise and be back in a minute. You could be practicing very useful spells right now.”

“But-”

“I got this. It’s probably just the wind. Besides, you went off without me when you ran to Slughorn’s classroom to retrieve the vial with the Restorative Potion. I think it’s my turn to run off without you,” Draco reasoned. Harry was about to retort back some snarky comment, no doubt, so Draco cut in: “ _And_ I’m still in the library. It’s not like I’m leaving the room. I’ve gone back there by myself plenty of times.”

Draco honestly couldn’t believe he was arguing with Harry about whether or not he should accompany Draco to the depths of the library. But on second thought, he definitely could believe it.

Luckily, Harry’s response was a small shrug. He was definitely wary, about what, Draco could not even begin to guess, but Harry went back to practicing defensive spells, and Draco let out a deep breath.

Once he made his way to the back of the library, standing in front of the large windows, his suspicions about what had been making the noise was confirmed. The same eagle owl that Draco had sent to Azkaban to deliver a letter about a week ago was flying in place right in front of Draco’s face, and he carefully opened up the window to let it in. 

The owl perched on the window sill, and in its beak was a small letter that was horrifically torn and discolored, of course, courtesy of Azkaban. He stood motionless, staring at the letter with thoughts of disbelief and incredulousness flowing through him. Someone had written back.

It was only until the owl gave a loud _hoot_ , that Draco was brought back to reality, scowling at the owl for making such a loud noise. He was sure he could hear Harry’s footsteps, and quickly took the letter from the owl, the owl flying off in the direction of the Owlery. 

Attached to the parchment Azkaban had surely provided, there was another letter there; Draco’s letter, the one he had originally written and sent his father. He quickly stuffed the letter he had written into his pocket, and quickly unfolded the response he had received. All that was written in sloppy cursive was one word: _yes._

Harry’s footsteps were as close as ever now, so Draco stuffed the response in his pocket too. 

“So? Anything?” Harry asked, looking from Draco to the open window.

Draco shook his head violently. He was usually an excellent liar, but his heart was pounding like crazy and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins, along with a ringing in his ear; he supposed Harry would be able to see right through his lies when he replied to Harry’s question. “Uh, no. Nothing. Just the wind.” Draco gestured outside, where it was in fact insanely windy, blowing around dead leaves and snow. 

Harry looked convinced, and Draco was grateful. “Oh, okay,” Harry said, moving around Draco to close the window.

The world was spinning, everything moving uncontrollably fast, while also slow. The ringing in Draco’s ears intensified greatly, and the sting that constantly emanated from his left forearm increased. 

Harry moved in front of him, and now Harry was spinning. “Draco. Draco? What’s wrong? You look sick.” Harry’s hands were now gripping his shoulders, and Draco was glad. He didn’t think he could stand on his own. “Can you hear me? Draco. Draco! Please, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m-” He sputtered, no words coming out of his mouth. 

“Draco. Draco look at me. Look at me.” So he did. Draco concentrated on looking into Harry’s eyes, and Harry stared back. Harry was full of concern and sorrow, and Draco wondered what he looked like when Harry gazed at him. 

It was all too much.

So Draco did what he did best, what he always seemed to fall back to. He ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update *some time in the near future*


	12. Ad Astra Per Aspera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To the stars through difficulties."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently created an instagram account: @mlfoyskhione, where I'll be posting book reviews, drarry fanfic recs, and text posts about Harry Potter, The Shadowhunter Chronicles, and Carry On. Please go and check it out and say hi to me over there! I'll also update on it when I'll be posting new chapters of this fanfic

Apparently, standing up straight had seemed impossible, but running came easy to him.

The portraits on the walls were blurry as Draco ran by them. Everything was ten times more blurry than usual.

Continuing to look at Harry, Harry who was filled with goodness and strength, was not an option. Draco needed to get away from everything, and that included Harry, too.

In the back of his mind, he knew it had been out of line to just take off the way he had, leaving Harry standing shocked and worried at the back of the library. Maybe a little part of him had thought wherever he went, Harry would surely follow. Well, he was wrong. As he kept running, he turned his head constantly, wanting to see if Harry was chasing after him, but Harry wasn’t.

He didn’t know if that was due to Draco taking off so suddenly, the shock of it all leaving Harry standing stock still, until he was composed enough to run after Draco, or, if Draco was simply running too fast for Harry to catch up. He felt like he was running fast. It was probably the fastest he’d ever run in his life, not counting the time when he and the other Death Eater’s had to flee the Astronomy Tower, after Snape had killed Dumbledore. 

_Or_ , the most depressing thought, Harry didn’t care enough to go running after Draco this time. Maybe he finally saw right through Draco’s lies, and didn’t care if Draco got hurt or kidnapped.

Right on cue, Draco fell, tripping over his own feet, and skidded across the floor which was covered in dust. Well, it had been covered in dust until Draco had run and fell on it.

He looked back the way he’d come, hoping and dreading Harry was right behind him. He wasn’t. 

He sat on the ground for a minute, collecting his breath and thoughts, before he managed to stand up and speed walk down different corridors he didn’t recognize. His right foot was now throbbing, but he didn’t seem to notice it as much as he noticed his forearm stinging, and the ringing that was attempting to swallow him whole.

He was definitely moving at a more bearable pace now, so why hadn’t Harry shown up yet? Harry had his stupid map he could use to track Draco down with, and-

Harry didn’t have his map. Draco did. 

Draco had left with it clutched in his hand, and it was still clutched in his hand to that moment. So Harry really wouldn’t be able to find Draco. It was an upsetting thought. He oddly wanted Harry’s company, even if he did run away in the first place to get away from Harry.

The front entrance doors to Hogwarts loomed upon him, and he pushed open the door. One last time he glanced around behind him, and waited a couple minutes for a git with messy black hair and big green eyes to show up, with no luck. 

He closed the door behind him, and instantly regretted walking outside. It was still windy, the wind moving around the snow, making almost nothing visible. But, he could luckily make out a small structure farther down the lawn, a structure Draco was familiar with; a pavilion. 

He cast a quick heating charm, thankful he had at least remembered his wand in his hasty attempt at running away from Harry. It wasn’t the most powerful charm he’d ever casted, but it would be enough of a substitute for his warm winter coat. 

The snow piled over the grass was thick, but he trudged through it, heading in the direction of the pavilion. Once he made the walk to his destination, he plopped down on one of the steps leading up to the raised seating area. He felt like he didn’t deserve the comfort of a bench right now. He deserved to have the snow slapping his face, freezing his nose and cheeks, and certainly ruining his hair.

He rummaged through his trouser pocket and took out both letters. He opened the letter that had one simple word: _yes._ It was written in his father’s handwriting, no doubt, and his father had done exactly what Draco had asked him to write. A simple yes or no response regarding whether or not Lucius’ Mark had started moving again.

He wished he hadn’t written the letter to his father. He wished he would have been smart enough to send out a piece of parchment with the word, ‘HELP,’ and had an owl send it to the Ministry.

His father was awake; not subject to the sleeping curse. Which meant other people were awake too.

His father’s fucking Dark Mark had started moving again. Which meant all the other Death Eaters were experiencing the same problem. 

He’d been blindly following the Figure’s advice. He hadn’t realized until just now, but the Figure had specifically told him not to send out more letters, or else it would end badly for him. Why hadn’t he just went with his gut and done the _right_ thing instead? Not following orders from another dark wizard again. He still had time to send a distress letter, he guessed, but he wasn’t sure when it would arrive at the Ministry, and he didn’t have Snape’s book with him. Harry had it. 

But, Harry wasn’t with him, and Harry didn’t know Draco had sent a letter to his father.

He scrubbed his cold hands across his face. He’d been so fucking stupid the past two weeks. He’d had so many opportunities to seek help, and he blew them all. His time was up. Tomorrow was Sunday.

Sure, the Figure really could have been throwing empty threats at Draco. Maybe Harry was right, and maybe nothing would happen Sunday. But Draco was too much of a coward to think otherwise. Too much of a coward to defy yet another person who had taken advantage of him.

Everything was crumbling down fast. The worst part was, it was all his fault.

He clenched and unclenched his fingers, his nails digging deep into his palm.

_I could have prevented all of this from happening._

He’d thought he was a changed man. He’d thought he’d never let anyone take advantage of him ever again. He was so incredibly naive to believe all the lies he’d told himself.

His fingers raked over the material covering his left forearm. Before he knew it, he was scratching the damned Dark Mark, even though his sleeve was still covering the actual skin. He scratched until he felt the movement was a part of him, like the scratching movement was a second nature to him. And maybe, maybe if he kept on scratching and never stopped, the clothing material would fade away, and then soon after, the Mark would too. 

It was a wonderful thought. He kept scratching.

After a while, he thought he heard a noise, but his brain blocked it out, and he focused on the task at hand.

He felt the Mark starting to burn more fiercely, and he wondered if he really had made progress. Of course, it wasn’t himself causing the burning, as much as he wished it was, but the Mark itself flaring, as it was quite literally alive. As it had been for two weeks.

He felt a warm hand wrap around his left wrist, and before he could comprehend what was going on, he heard Harry’s voice, soft and comforting. “Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.” And then Harry was pulling Draco’s fingers away from further injuring himself or upsetting the Mark.

Draco’s head snapped up to look at Harry. “What are you doing here?” Draco asked, even though it was a foolish question.

Harry sighed, and then sat down next to Draco, facing the brutal wind and snow. “I had to find you, of course. Though, it was a bit hard to do since I didn’t have my map to track you down.”

“You came to find me?”

“Well, I couldn’t have just let you wander the castle alone, especially when I knew something was upsetting you.”

Draco nodded, and looked down at the ground. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s making you so upset?” Harry prompted gently.

Draco shook his head. To his horror, he felt tears stinging his eyes. Harry’s kindness and humanity was messing up Draco in a way like never before. He hated it. He hated showing so much vulnerability in front of Harry.

“You know,” Harry whispered, turning his body to face Draco. “It’s okay to cry, Draco.”

It was like those words, those subdued, soft words, had undone something inside of Draco. They had made their way throughout Draco’s core, breaking every barrier, every hidden emotion, and every feeling he had tucked so far away, far enough where no one would ever, ever break him.

But, now, thanks to Harry, he’d been broken.

Harry had surpassed every barrier Draco had surrounded himself with. Because of Harry, because of all that Harry was and Harry stood for, because Harry saw past every possible barrier Draco had ever put up, tears escaped from Draco’s eyes. 

It was humiliating. Draco had made sure he would never cry ever again once Harry had seen him weeping in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. But here he was, almost two years later, crying in front of Harry Potter once again.

Once he started crying, he found he couldn’t stop. So, he stopped trying to prevent the tears, and he let everything become blurry and disoriented, he let his carefully shelved thoughts run free. 

His silent cries quickly turned into violent sobs, and he found he honestly couldn’t care less at the moment.

He felt a pair of strong, yet consoling, arms surrounding him. Harry was hugging Draco, and Draco found he was hugging Harry too. He was crying into Harry’s shoulder, getting snot and tears all over Harry’s shirt. He felt Harry rubbing small circles on his back, and then he felt wary fingers carding through his hair. 

It was probably the most comfort he had ever received in his life, and he was glad it was Harry who was comforting him.

Somehow, someway, even though the world was crumbling away, turning to dust, everything felt right. Everything was so right, Draco wanted it to never stop.

But, every moment had to stop at some point. That was a part of life. No one could live in one moment forever, sadly. It was comforting to know, though, that if he were ever given the opportunity to live in one memory forever, it would undoubtedly be the one Draco was still experiencing. 

_I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it._

His tears were starting to become sparse, from the lack of… whatever produced tears in one’s body. Draco honestly had no clue how tears were made or what they came from, not that he would ever need knowledge about that particular subject in his life. 

While he started wiping his cheeks, cleaning off all the embarrassing tear tracks, his mind became clean too. Less foggy with sorrow and more clear with… anger and pain. Whatever moment he and Harry had just had was gone, and Draco was left to deal with the humiliating aftermath.

Draco slowly pushed Harry away from him, his heart begging him to keep Harry close, but his mind begging him to never have Harry touch him again. 

Harry didn’t seem to get the memo, and was attempting to pull Draco back into his arms when Draco had to push at Harry’s chest, his eyes pleading for Harry to leave him alone.

“Draco, what? What is it? Am I doing something wrong?” Harry pleaded, needing to know the answer to his question.

“Harry,” Draco croaked, “I- I just. Can you please stop?” The last part came out as inaudible, and sure enough, Harry leaned in closer to hear Draco more clearly.

“What was that? Draco-”

“CAN YOU PLEASE STOP?!” Draco broke even more, screaming the words and creating more discomfort in his throat. “Please. Can you please just… stop.”

Harry was shaken, literally and figuratively. Though, the literal part might have had to do with the freezing temperature. “Oh,” Harry whispered, facing the whirring snow again but not shifting farther away from Draco.

He didn’t have any intention of talking anymore, but his mouth seemed to have other plans. “I’m just- so tired. So so fucking tired of this whole mess.” Draco put his head in his hands. “I’m just such a horrible person, I could probably write an essay worth ten pieces of parchment describing what a- what a-” _A monster I am._ “A monster I am.” Draco squeezed his eyes as tight as they’d go. 

“Hey. Draco. Don’t speak of yourself like that. You’re not a monster.”

“But I am, Harry! You don’t even know half of it.” He was back to scratching his forearm. “I can’t do this anymore,” Draco breathed.

“Do what?”

“This. All of this. Everything.” 

Harry grabbed at Draco’s hand again, pulling it away from scratching his arm, and instead holding it tightly in his own hands. 

“I saw u torture Rowle.” Harry’s voice was small and unsure, but Draco heard him clearly nonetheless, and his stomach twisted at the mention of a moment he would rather forget. “I saw you using the Cruciatus on him, and-”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Draco choked out. “And how did you even see me?”

“You didn’t let me finish, as usual. I was going to say that, while you were… using the Cruciatus, I saw your face. Your face was full of regret and pain, and to be honest, that was one of the only times I felt sympathy for you in the past couple years, and realized how human you were.” Harry chose his words carefully, Draco could tell, but they still stung.

“I still don’t understand. I- you- I don’t-”

“I realized then,” Harry continued on, as if Draco hadn’t just stuttered through a sentence. “That you were- _are-_ a good person. A good person who was placed in a horrible, terrifying situation.”

“So, you’re saying, I’m a good person because I reluctantly followed a Dark Lord and wanted to puke every time I was forced to torture someone? Then, yes, I guess I am a great person.” Draco’s tone was bitter, and he was starting to become more angry every single second Harry spoke.

Harry shook his head, grimacing. “I’m sorry, I’m not explaining myself well enough. You’re right, it doesn’t exactly make up for… everything that happened, during the war and before the war, but, I just want you to know that deep down, you are a good person, Draco Malfoy. You’re becoming an even better person every day. You’re changing. You’ve changed. I can see it now, even if it did take a while. Do you think I would have been able to survive two whole weeks with the old Malfoy? Because I am certain I wouldn’t have.”

Draco’s right hand was still held tightly in Harry’s hand, and he had no intention of pulling it free. He used his left hand to prop his head up. “You see, that’s it. I’m trying, all the time, but it’s just too hard. Too hard to keep it all up when deep inside, I really haven’t changed. I’m still the same sucky person who makes the same sucky mistakes.”

“Well, if you believe that, that only gives you a more motivating reason to keep on trying, to keep on trying to better yourself, because one day, I assure you, you will be the best version of yourself. A version of yourself filled with self love and self reassurance.” Harry squeezed his hand. “I know I can’t really compare to… uh, your experiences during the war, but I had to better myself this summer. I had to find self love. I already sort of told you all this on Thursday, in the Garden, but I haven’t exactly found it quite yet, but I think I’m getting there. Slowly, but surely. You just have to pick something or someone that gets you to fight, everyday, for yourself. Someone that cares about you.” Harry squeezed his hand again.

“That is so unbelievably easy for you to say,” Draco drawled.

“What?”

“I have nobody. Nobody cares about me,” He whispered into the side of his hand.

“Draco, hey.” Harry’s voice was now a whisper too. He tugged at Draco’s hand slightly. “Hey. Look at me. _Look at me._ ” So Draco did, against his better judgement. Harry went on now that their eyes were locked. “I care about you. So, so much. Which is a sentence I never thought would come out of my mouth, but it’s true.” 

Draco glanced down, unable to look into Harry’s eyes anymore since a small smile formed on his face. “Ugh. You’re unbelievable. Stop coming back. Stop doing all of this for me. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve someone who sees you for you. Someone who knows the good and the bad parts of you, and accepts it.” Harry was so, so obviously talking about himself, even though he didn’t outright say “Me,” or “I.” 

Draco wondered what Harry meant by saying, _“You deserve someone.”_ Someone what? Someone who would be Draco’s friend? Someone who would be there for Draco to cry on? Someone who wanted to be in a relationship with Draco? He wished Harry would stop being so cryptic. 

“But, if you really mean it, I’ll go. I’ll give you some space, and I won’t come back. It’s up to you.” Harry dropped Draco’s hand, and his hand felt so cold; it wasn’t due to the freezing temperature outside. Harry started to rise up from his seated position next to Draco, but he caught Harry’s arm before Harry could get far.

“Please don’t leave me,” Draco said.

Harry instantly sat back down. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

\---

The wind and snow whipped past them, Harry’s hair stark black with white flakes clinging, and Draco’s hair surely looking even more white than usual. 

The weather outside was odd. The sky showed no signs of clouds, and the starry night sky was more than visible, the stars glowing serenely. Yet, there was snow falling, however barely hitting the ground, the wind carrying the flakes through the air.

Harry leaned on Draco, his head resting on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco’s head resting on top of Harry’s head.

They hadn’t moved since forever, only picking up their wands to recast warming charms once in a while. 

Draco was still full of misery, still thinking about everything he had done wrong in the past two weeks, the past two years, and basically every year of his life. He wanted to give the illusion to Harry that he was alright, though, at least for the moment. He wanted Harry to think he’d solved all of Draco’s problems. He wanted Harry to be happy, which was more important than his own happiness.

In the past however long they’d been leaning against each other, they both had gone back and forth sharing memories from their childhood. Draco had been surprised to learn about the abuse Harry had gone through as a child, and mentally scolded himself, as he’d made Harry’s life even more miserable at Hogwarts; Harry’s only escape from the Dursleys. 

Harry had explained exactly how he’d been able to see Draco torture Rowle, along with many other stories about his adventures at Hogwarts and during seventh year when he was on the run. In return, Draco had vaguely told him what life was like living with the Dark Lord, leaving out a lot of the more gruesome aspects. Which was technically almost everything. 

He also briefly explained his stay in Azkaban, and how horrible that experience had been, even with the Dementors gone. It was tough, reminiscing on one of his most dreadful and humiliating moments, but Harry was there to comfort him, and tell him that he didn’t need to look back on it if he didn’t want to. Draco had shaken him off and explained he needed to talk about it with someone, and Harry was the only someone he would do it with.

When Draco had used the term ‘Dark Lord,’ Harry gave him an exasperated look, and Draco was certain Harry was going to scold him, but instead, he looked sorry, and he snuggled up closer to Draco, like he finally understood why it was so incredibly hard for him say You Know Who’s real name. 

“Draco?” Harry said, shifting his head so now his chin was lightly resting on Draco’s shoulder, his eyes mapping out Draco’s face. 

“Mhm?” Draco mumbled.

“This might be too personal a question to ask, and I totally understand if you don’t want to answer it,” Harry rambled, his eyes still searching Draco’s. “But, how- how did you get this scar?” Harry finally lifted his head, his hand slowly reaching out to touch Draco’s right cheek, hovering over the scar that was there, silently asking for Draco’s permission to touch.

Draco nodded at Harry, and Harry lightly pressed his fingers over the ugly scar that marred the right side of his face. “Well,” Draco coughed, “Uh, you see, it was from that day… in Myrtle’s bathroom…”

Harry dropped his hand suddenly, like fire had seeped through Draco’s scar, burning his fingers. “No. Oh God- No. I’m- God, Draco, I’m so sorry,” Harry said, and Draco could tell tears were starting to form in Harry’s eyes. Draco frowned.

“Stop that. Don’t cry. It’s only _me._ Me, who you didn’t even care about two weeks ago. There’s really no need to apologize. I was about to _Crucio_ you. I should be apologizing to you.”

“But- your face- I-”

“I know. I see it every time in the mirror. I’ve honestly gotten used to it by now.”

“Aren’t you mad at me, though?”

“Mad at you? Of course.” Draco gave a small smile. “You disfigured my face. But, what’s done is done, and Merlin knows I deserved it. You should see my chest if you think my cheek is bad.” Harry gasped, eyes moving to Draco’s chest. Draco laughed. “If you think I’m going to show you those scars, you’re wrong. It’s freezing out here.”

Harry blushed. “That’s not what I was going to ask.” He moved his attention away from Draco’s chest, and briefly glanced at Draco’s left arm, making him feel hot even in the freezing air.

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times. “I’m sorry- about-” 

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence. I’m not in the mood to talk about anything else you feel the need to apologize for. You say sorry _way_ too much. It’s a bad habit- makes people feel they can walk all over you.”

“You’ve apologized to me before,” Harry said.

“Yeah, but that was for all the horrible stuff I have personally done to you, or done indirectly to you, or whatever. Over the past two weeks you’ve apologized to me for things you literally had no control over, which is noble of you, I guess, but still.” Draco shrugged.

“I honestly haven’t thought about it like that before. I haven’t thought about that at all. I think it’s just a bad habit I picked up from after the war. You know, always feeling the need to apologize for everything that happened, feeling sad you couldn’t have done more, even if there really was nothing else you could have done differently to help.” 

Draco stilled, taking in Harry’s words. Draco hadn’t apologized to anyone, besides Harry, and there Harry was, the hero of the war, apologizing to quite literally every person he ran into, for… what? Saving the world? And what has _he_ done? Nothing. He hasn’t so much as said a word to anyone but Pansy, for the most part, since the end of the war. Draco was starting to think there was something seriously wrong with him. Not that he hadn’t noticed that before, but now, with Harry’s help, things were starting to become so much more clear. 

“I’m hot,” Draco opted to say.

Harry started. “What?”

“The heating charm you cast is _very_ strong. I’ll just-” Draco got up from his spot, and laid down in the snow, letting the wind brush over him. 

“Uh.” Harry was now standing over Draco. “Okay.”

Harry laid down next to him. Draco was glad he had company while he was freezing his bollocks off. He hadn’t felt like replying to Harry, and he wanted to feel numb, so he felt the best option was to lie down in the snow. 

“The stars are bright tonight,” Draco said, looking up at the sky.

“They are,” Harry agreed.

“I think I can see my constellation.”

“The Draco constellation?”

“No, the Harry constellation.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course I mean the Draco constellation. It’s right there next to Ursa Minor.” Draco pointed at the sky, tracing his constellation with the tip of his finger, his back numbing and the heating charm wearing off.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry squinting at the sky, even with his glasses on. “I don’t see it. Which one’s Ursa Minor again?”

“It’s probably the most obvious one to spot. It’s also called the Little Bear, or the Little Dipper. We learned about it in Astronomy, remember?”

“Ha ha, well funny story. I didn’t really pay any attention in that class. So, I really don’t know anything about Space.”

“I’m shocked,” Draco deadpanned. Harry didn’t respond, but he did chuckle, and Draco had an inkling he possibly had found Ursa Minor, just by the way he was staring serenely at the sky, the stars winking at him. “You know I used to loathe my name,” Draco said.

“Really? I thought you’d be happy your name was in the Hogwarts motto.”

“I was. But, as a child, my… friends, used to make fun of me. But, now that I think back to it, it was so stupid, because like, I know plenty of people who have _extremely_ weird names, even weird for Wizards.”

“Sounds like you had shit friends.”

“You’re right about that.” Draco took a chance by staring intently at Harry, until Harry turned and stared back, and Draco exhaled. “But now you’re my friend.” Even though Harry had flat out confirmed it a couple nights ago, he wanted to say it himself, and have Harry agree with him. Just so he knew he hadn’t dreamt the whole conversation in the Garden of Mystics.

“Correct,” Harry said.

They both went back to staring up at the stars. It was a truly beautiful sight. Draco was lucky to have experienced so many wonderful moments with Harry over the past two weeks. He had thought running through the halls was all the fun he’d get to have with no one else around. But then they both danced in the Garden with each other. And now, they were stargazing, and lying in the freezing snow next to each other. He wondered if he would have another memorable experience sometime in the near future. He really, really hoped so.

In all honesty, every moment with Harry was extraordinary. All because Harry was simply Harry. The most extraordinary person. The person who Draco loved. The person who Draco had loved for so many years, throughout the worst times of his life, even if he had only realized it a couple days ago.

The stars never failed to stop twinkling, and the constellations they made never failed to be less mesmerizing. Harry was like the night sky. Twinkly and bright, mesmerizing in every aspect; the good and the bad, his perfections and his imperfections. 

Even with Harry’s imperfections, he was still perfect. Draco didn’t know how that was possible, but Harry made it possible. 

Draco shivered, and Harry noticed, scooting closer to him in the snow. He really didn’t think he could get any warmer, since the snow outweighed any factors of warmth that tried to dominate the snow’s cold, but when Harry wrapped an arm around him, Draco felt a lick of heat trickle up him. 

Maybe Harry did like him. Maybe Harry loved him. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but everything Harry had done for Draco ever since he had ran away from the library, showed that Harry truly cared about him. 

Draco wasn’t sure what dictated love, since he’d never seen true love up close, but he hoped that when two people destined to clash, destined to rip each other apart, destined to be on opposite sides of a war, started truly caring for each other, and acknowledged it fully; that it meant they had overcome every obstacle destiny had thrown at them, and had found love in each other, instead of destruction. 

“Ad astra per aspera,” Harry said suddenly.

Draco’s eyes widened. “Did you just speak Latin? _Correctly?”_

“Yeah?”

“When did you learn Latin?” Draco was unbelieving that Harry had just spat out a Latin sentence.

“Well after you told me you spoke Latin, the next day in the library when you were off browsing the books in the library, I found a book on Latin nearby, and decided to take a look for myself. The first page I opened to was phrases regarding the stars and the sky and stuff, and I read a phrase that stuck with me, ‘Ad Astra Per Aspera’.”

“To the stars through difficulties,” Draco spoke quietly. “It’s a beautiful Latin quote. One of my favorites, actually.”

“Of course you have favorite Latin quotes.” Harry laughed.

“Of course I do,” Draco agreed, which made Harry laugh even more. Harry’s laugh was the best sound in the entire universe, Draco concluded.

They continued to sit in each other’s company, Draco counting the stars while thinking about how Harry had picked up a Latin book and memorized a phrase… to impress him? Maybe? He could have been reading into the whole thing too much, and Harry could have picked up the book just because he was bored, but even though Harry was pretty dense, he had a beautiful, complex mind, and maybe _was_ trying to impress Draco. _Maybe_.

“Draco, look,” Harry said, glancing in the opposite direction of Draco.

He had to lift himself out of Harry’s grasp to see what Harry was looking at, and he immediately felt the warmth travel out of him. Though, when he saw what had grabbed Harry’s attention, he smiled, and began to stand up.

“It’s an Anemonlea flower. You remembered,” Draco said. It was so very important to him that Harry had remembered the flower they had seen when coming back from Hogsmeade the first day of the curse. He knew why. Remembering a tiny little detail, that brought back memories of the two of them, meant that Harry hopefully had feelings for him? Or, it wasn’t like that to Harry at all. To him, it could be a flower that looked pretty and different from all the others, with absolutely no meaning to Harry. 

But Harry surprised him, not for the first time. “How could I forget? You told me about this type of flower the first day of all this. The day I woke up and no one else was awake, no one else responsive or moving.” Harry was now standing next to Draco, their bodies touching. “That was, everyone but you.”

Harry went on, “I was scared to be alone, you know. Waking up that first day was horrifying. I thought I was completely alone, and then I saw you. I thought I was dreaming, that my mind was playing tricks on me, but it really had been you. 

“I felt so much relief because I’d found out I hadn’t been alone, but when I had thought about it some more, the relief inside me went away; I was so upset that out of everyone in the castle, it had to have been you. But, it turned out okay, in the end. And I'm glad it was you, I'm glad I got to know you better the past two weeks and I'm glad we got to look past all of our past prejudices, and form… a- a friendship.”

The word ‘friendship’ now felt like a stab in the heart. Draco wanted to be more than friends so bad, but he would have to make do with what he had for a while. Until what, he didn’t know, but he at least hoped there would be an ‘until’.

“I felt the same exact way, the first day the curse started,” Draco said, “And I’m also glad I got to know you better too. And let me tell you, Harry, you’re not alone. You’ll never be alone. Whatever happens tomorrow, I’ll be by your side. As well as all the days after that.”

“I’ll be by your side, too,” Harry said. There was a moment of silence between them, the only sound audible was the wind and their quick, short breaths. “Now, I know you told me specifically not to ever pluck an Anemonlea, since they’re rare, but…”

Harry bent down to pick a flower, and Draco honestly didn’t feel like stopping him. “Harry, what on Earth are you doing?”

“I just-” Harry was back to standing at Draco’s side, except this time, their eyes were locked and Harry was closer than ever. Was this the moment where they would kiss? Draco wasn’t prepared for a kiss. Not yet at least. He wished Harry would have given him some warning or… “I thought this would look pretty in your hair.”

Harry hadn’t been going to kiss him, but he _was_ currently sticking an Anemonlea in his hair, tucking the stem behind his ear, and fixing the flower petals intently.

“I’m sorry, this is probably extremely weird to you, I don’t know why-”

“It's okay. Really, I-” _I fucking love you, you tosser, I love anything and everything you do._ “I’m sure it does look good in my hair. Though, I doubt it enhances my appearance, because my looks are already naturally enhanced.”

Harry was blushing, and it was plainly obvious the red color darkening his cheeks wasn’t due to the cold. 

Draco patted the flower, fixing it slightly so it wouldn’t fall out. He wished he had some reflective surface he could look in to see himself, but the way Harry was looking at him, told Draco everything he wanted to know.

“There’s something else, I wanted to… give you,” Harry said, turning more red.

“I love gifts,” Draco responded.

“It’s just something- I- well, I’ve had for a while. Probably had it since last June. And-” Harry stopped talking, grasping something from behind his neck. Draco had no clue what Harry was doing, but once he was done fiddling with whatever was hidden behind his neck, Draco saw plain and clear Harry was holding a necklace.

Well, it wasn’t so much of a necklace as it was a chain with a piece of something red dangling on it. 

“It’s really nothing- I just- I wanted you to have this.” Harry held out his hand, the chain and red diamond shaped piece gleaming up at him. “I found this gem at one of my lowest points last summer. I picked it up from outside the Weasley’s and kept it in my pocket until I found this chain lying around. So, then I turned it into a sort of necklace, so I would never be without it. It’s been a reminder to me after all this time, there’s always something new, awaiting to be discovered, even in the darkest of times.”

Harry gently took Draco’s hand, and dropped the necklace into his palm. Draco could feel the cold chain resting on his skin, but the gem was rather warm, like it had its own heartbeat, like it was somewhat alive.

“Also,” Harry went on,”It’s kind of brought me luck? Like, I don’t know, it’s incredibly silly, but I feel safe when it's with me, I feel that it protects me. I just wanted you to have it now, since I feel like it’s protected and guided me a good amount, and now you deserve to have it.”

Draco was speechless. The gem obviously meant a great deal to Harry, and he was giving it to Draco. It was still hard to process the fact that Harry considered Draco a friend, and that Harry actually cared for Draco.

“Thank you, Harry.” He felt a hint of tears forming in his eyes. He didn’t even think crying was possible again, considering how much he’d cried earlier. “Thank you, so much.”

Harry placed a hand on Draco’s arm, squeezing it a bit. “I’ll put it on for you, if you’d like.”

“Please?” 

And he did. He took back the necklace for a minute, moving behind Draco to clasp the necklace around his neck. When he was finished, Draco turned to face Harry, and grinned, feeling blessed to have been given something so personal and meaningful.

He tucked the chain under his shirt, and boldly took Harry’s hand, guiding him back to their spot in the snow. 

He didn’t feel the need to become numb anymore, as his mood was gradually getting better, and his fears for what was to come slipped away piece by piece, but he enjoyed lying in the snow next to Harry. He oddly, really, really, enjoyed it. 

This time, instead of getting the entirety of their backs covered in snow, they sat in the snow, getting only their arse and legs wet. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but Harry for sure made it bearable.

They sat close together, and Draco was blissfully aware of how close they were, and how their hands were still linked together. His free hand fiddled with the gem hidden under his shirt, and he gazed up at the night sky once again, breathing in the freezing air.

“I wish I could save this forever,” Draco said, his eyes mapping out the stars.

“This?”

“Yeah, this. This moment. The beautiful night sky, the chilly air, and-” _you._

“Well, then, why don’t we?”

“Now I’m confused.”

“Why don’t we save this moment? Like you said. I have this spell…” Harry let go of his hand to grab his wand, and said some complicated spell that, from what Draco could see, did nothing. “And look!”

Draco looked. In Harry’s hand, which he was sure wasn’t there a second ago, was a small photograph. Whatever spell Harry had cast, the product of it was a small picture, about the size of his hand. Draco inched closer to get a better look, and saw that the photograph wasn’t moving. The picture of the night sky and snowflakes it had entrapped was perfectly still. 

“Whoa,” Draco said, fascinated. “How’d you get it to stay still? What spell was that?”

Harry laughed and pocketed the photo. “Muggle photos don’t move. The spell I cast basically replicated whatever Muggles do to get a still picture.”

“How? How did you know that spell? It’s extraordinary!”

In the back of Draco’s mind, he knew the answer. But a part of him hoped… “Alec taught it to me. Last summer. Along with that spell to play songs on the radio. He taught me other spells too.”

Draco’s hands clenched into a fist. He did _not_ want to hear about fucking Kaspian. Was he jealous? Maybe a little. But he had every right to be. Kaspian was a downright dick and Harry still became friends with him right off the bat! Draco had been a dick and… he and Harry only just became friends. Sure, he and Kaspian’s situations were different, but the dick part wasn’t.

“So, do you want to take a photo? You know, to save this moment forever?” Harry asked, his face scrunched in confusion at Draco’s tense posture.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’d love to,” Draco said, trying to reign in his feelings. Kaspian was asleep. He wasn’t here, and he wouldn’t be here until, well, everyone woke up. Which could be soon. But, who knew when the curse would really be broken. And until it happened, Draco was the one with Harry.

“So, uh, get in- closer.” Harry cleared his throat.

Draco did as Harry said, and somehow, they were even closer than before. Draco’s cheek was touching Harry’s cheek, and the contact was bloody amazing. Draco felt giddy knowing he would have a photograph any minute now of the two of them in close proximity.

Harry’s wand was held a bit away from their faces, and positioned so that the tip of the wand pointed upwards. Harry spoke the spell, and nothing indicated that it had worked until a photograph appeared in Harry’s hand, the same size as the last. Even though the size was the same, the picture was not. It showed the both of them leaning against each other, not quite smiling since they hadn’t been sure when the picture was going to be taken, but definitely enjoying themselves. 

Draco was looking directly at where the wand had been held, but Harry’s attention hadn’t been held where Draco’s had. Harry was staring directly at Draco, not in a creepy way whatsoever, but in a protective, caring way. The Harry in real life was back to blushing again, and Draco had a feeling it had to do with the words Harry's eyes conveyed in the picture.

The background of the photograph was stunning; the wand had caught the night sky with all the glittering stars. The photo honestly looked fake. If anyone else was around to take a look at the photo, they’d definitely think Draco used some dark magic to get the sky to look so perfect, and to get the Savior to look at the Death Eater that way. 

Draco was delighted to know for a fact, it was so far from fake. 

“Can we take another one?” Draco asked, excited beyond belief.

“Yes, of course,” Harry said, and he repeated the process, raising his wand and speaking the charm.

This time around, Draco was prepared, and turned to look directly at Harry, smiling a huge smile. Harry did the exact same thing, and he wondered whether Harry had actually read his mind. Or, maybe, they just thought alike. 

The new photo appeared in Harry’s hand, and the picture turned out as perfect as the last. Both of their smiles shown so bright, they could’ve been mistaken as the stars above their heads. 

“Since there's two photographs, we can each take one, if you’d like.” Harry sounded unsure.

The problem was, Draco didn’t know which one to take. He wished he could have both, but that would be completely selfish, and Draco was working on fixing that. “I think i’ll take the first one.”

Harry handed over the photo where Draco was staring at the placement of the wand out in front of them, while Harry gazed at Draco. He loved both photos, but the first one they took together contained something special, something that made Draco’s stomach do a million flips when he studied the way Harry had been looking at him.

They pocketed their respective photos, taking extra care as to not crumple them, and went back to sitting in the snow, watching the stars. 

As the night slowly moved on, Draco’s worries started to crawl back. He started analyzing the night they had shared, and started stressing over the thought that, yes, he and Harry were friends for now, but what would happen after the curse was broken? If he and Harry randomly became mates, strutting around Hogwarts together, people would think Harry was under the Imperius curse or something else horrible. Not to mention Harry’s reputation if he was seen hanging around Draco. Draco couldn’t be the reason Harry’s life was ruined, now that it was starting to finally piece itself back together.

“Hey.” Harry nudged Draco. “You look sad.”

“Good observation skills.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s up or not? I want to help you with whatever it is. You were happy earlier, what changed?”

Draco sighed. He knew he didn’t have to tell Harry anything if he didn’t want to, they sorted that out; allowing the other their personal space and privacy, and not trying to pry. But, Draco found he did want to consult Harry.

“Are we going to stay friends after this is all over?” Draco spoke rapidly.

“What? Of course we are! That’s what friendship is, Draco. I’m not just going to abandon you.”

“You’re Harry Potter. You already have amazing friends. Why would you need me? I’ll just ruin your reputation. You should never be seen associating with me.”

“You’re right.”

Draco blanched. “What?” He hadn’t been expecting that response from Harry.

“You have ruined my life,” Harry gave Draco a meaningful look. “You’ve ruined my life in the best possible way.” He took Draco’s hand once again. “When I’m back to my _normal_ life, I want you to be a part of it. Sure, that might make my life a little less normal, and people might talk, but what I’ve said to you before is true: I care about you, and I’ll stick by your side.”

His whole body felt tight and he was at loss for words. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Harry smiled and gripped his hand tight.

The small noises of the outside surrounded them as they sat together. Draco still had something he wanted to say, but he couldn’t think of a proper way to say them.

“What’s on your mind now?” Harry asked.

“How did you know?!”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe over the past two weeks I’ve gotten good at reading you.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Alright… Well, uh, so tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, yeah.”

“Aren’t you worried about what’s going to happen? I mean I know you told me before that you think nothing huge is going to happen, but…”

“I don’t really know what to think anymore. I mean, I trust your word, if in your ‘visions’ there really was some guy telling you something awful would happen Sunday, then yeah, maybe tomorrow is going to be… not so great,” Harry spoke so seriously, it made Draco snort. “But, the future isn’t certain, there could be a million possibilities for tomorrow.”

“But if something horrible does happen tomorrow, aren’t you… scared?”

Of course Harry wouldn’t be scared, though. He single handedly fought the Dark Lord on multiple occasions. Whatever Sunday brought would probably be nothing compared to what Harry had had to deal with. 

“I sort of look at it like this: there will always be some sort of crisis going on in our lives. Whether we like it or not. Sure, I might be scared about the future and not knowing exactly what will happen, but that’s just a part of life, I think. You just have to- live on.”

Harry was so fucking wise. Draco thought briefly, he could easily be the next Dumbledore with all of his wise-ness. 

“Harry.” Draco shook his head in disbelief. “You really make me feel like I’m not good enough.” Harry clearly couldn’t think of a response to that, so Draco went on, relieving Harry the trouble of (possibly) starting another gooey, sappy speech. “You’re just so sensible. I wish I could be like you even on your worst days. You seem to have an answer for literally every question in the universe there is.”

Okay, so maybe what Draco had added on wasn’t the best setup for Harry to _not_ make another sappy speech, but Draco couldn’t take back his words now. 

“The universe is too big for that,” Harry said. Draco’s heart convulsed. 

Draco desperately wanted to turn back time, to when they were eleven years old. He wanted to have a redo with Harry. Because maybe, just maybe, if they had been friends from the start, Draco could have learned from Harry’s wise words, and changed for the better at a young age, and not have had to deal with the horrors of being on the Dark Lord’s side. 

“You know, I feel I deserve all the hate,” Draco said, wanting to pour out all of his feelings to Harry. Wanting Harry to see his vulnerable side. “But at the same time, I want people to love and admire me again. Isn’t that a strange coincidence?”

Harry nodded slowly. “It is.”

“I’ve actually figured out, though, because of you, that if I want people to actually see I’ve changed and don’t support all that Pureblood prejudice shit, I have to _show_ people, and no longer hide in the shadows anymore. I think that’s one of the first things I’m going to do when the sleeping curse is lifted; apologize to everyone and just make it clear I’m a different man.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.”

Draco looked down and grinned. “Thanks.”

“You know what I think, though?”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“That you need to forgive yourself first, before you allow others to forgive you.”

Somehow, a tear fell silently down Draco’s cheek. Harry was just so _good_ and his words were so soothing. He always said exactly what Draco needed to hear, whether he liked it or not. Forgiving himself first was obviously easier said than done, and he knew Harry knew that, but the advice was still lovely to hear.

Harry’s finger wiped away the stray tear, and Draco made an odd sound at the gesture. 

“You remember what Elizabeth said to our therapy group three Fridays ago?” Harry asked.

“Uh, no? I barely ever pay attention in group therapy, it’s boring and irrelevant to me. Honestly one of the perks of this curse is that I didn’t have to go to therapy for two weeks. Amazing.”

“Usually I never pay attention either, but something she said really stuck with me. She said you have to let go of the past, or whatever, and that just never sat right with me. It’s sort of impossible to let go of the past, you know?”

Draco knew all too well. His past was something that haunted him day after day. “I know.”

Harry made a sympathetic look that conveyed ‘I know you know, it was a rhetorical question,’ but he continued on, “The past makes you who you are. The good and the bad. I think that what you choose to do in the future is what matters the most.”

Harry’s words always hit so close to home, it was almost insufferable to listen too. But it also gave Draco hope. Hope that he could somehow fix all the mistakes he had made in the past weeks. Whatever happened tomorrow, somehow, he could do the right thing for once. Like all things, it was easier to think about in your head than to actually go forth and take action in real life. But if Harry was by his side, he knew he could accomplish anything he set his mind to. 

“Hey,” Harry spoke softly. “Don’t cry. It’s alright.”

Draco was ready to protest that no, he wasn’t crying, but to his horror, for the third time that night, he felt tears falling freely down his cheeks. Harry was already there, brushing away the teardrops and slowly but surely holding him closer. 

“Is- is this alright?” Harry asked, worried. 

“Of course it is.”

He wasn’t sure why Harry was asking for Draco’s permission to hold him closer, since he’d already been doing it basically all night, but it showed Harry cared, which made the moment sweeter. 

Draco was slightly leaning against Harry’s chest, but Harry was still holding back for the strangest reason. “You can hold me,” Draco said, and quickly added, “If you want, that is.”

Harry held him tighter. He held him closer and more lovingly and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, folding his hands at Draco’s stomach. They were still sitting in the snow, and the snow was still falling freely. The wind had luckily died down a bit, but the temperature was still freezing. The heat from Harry’s body, however, made him warm. He felt like he had the universe at his back, at his waist, and at his shoulder, where Harry was resting his chin.

He felt a couple tears falling, but he knew it was due to the galaxy and stars and everything extraordinary holding him. He felt home. He felt home for the first time in years. Even if he was sitting in the cold, the snow making his trousers wet and icy; he couldn’t care less.

Draco thought about their last group therapy session. He thought long and hard, trying to remember some word Elizabeth had told them. 

_Sophrosyne._ It was definitely sophrosyne. 

A weird word, most definitely, but an interesting one nonetheless. Even though he really couldn’t recall any details from the session, he remembered that one word, and its meaning. 

_A healthy state of mind. Due to a deep awareness of one’s true self; resulting in true happiness._

He realized, what Harry had been talking about- Draco forgiving himself- basically meant… he had to find sophrosyne. Was Harry his sophrosyne?

He also realized, what Harry had told him in the Garden of Mystics the night they had danced, was that Harry was trying to find sophrosyne too. He was trying to find that missing piece that was left out of him, trying to find happiness in the world after the Dark Lord. Draco now understood, he was trying to do the exact same thing.

He didn’t know how to word that empty void inside of him before, and he noticed Harry had perfectly described what Draco had been feeling all his life that night in the Garden. “I went to Hogwarts looking for something. Anything. Anything that would fill the emptiness inside of me and all around me,” Harry had said. 

Was Draco so daft not to realize, he had done the same thing too? Was he so daft not to realize that when Harry was with him, when Harry was by his side, the emptiness inside of him was filled? 

Maybe he and Harry were each other’s sophrosyne. Maybe he and Harry led to each other’s true happiness and self awareness. 

He hadn’t been sure, before, that Harry liked him, or even loved him, for that matter. But surely, Harry felt whole when he was with Draco. Harry always laughed when he was with Draco. He laughed, he smiled, he danced, he ran through the halls of Hogwarts when he was with Draco. 

Draco obviously knew he was in love with Harry, and he hadn’t exactly been sure when he had started to fall in love with him, but maybe they’d been connected somehow, ever since the beginning, to find each other, to befriend each other, and find their true selves in another. 

In Draco’s mind, he had categorized all those moments, those experiences he’d shared with Harry as the best moments of his life. Were they the best moments of his life, because he’d felt complete for the first times of his life? Complete, and whole, with Harry Potter. 

He’d compared Harry to the universe; to the stars and to all the planets, but Harry was much greater than that. He was the person who completed Draco. He was brighter than any star in the universe. 

“What are you thinking now?” Harry whispered into Draco’s ear, sleepily. 

Draco craned his neck so that he could look directly at Harry. At Harry’s red nose and cheeks. At his dorky yet lovable glasses. At his ink black hair. He was thinking that Harry was beautiful, and that Harry truly was brighter than any star in the world. 

“I’m thinking,” Draco started, and Harry lifted his chin while Draco turned his body so that he was completely facing Harry. “I’m thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about you, Harry Potter.”

He knew he was crossing a line. A huge line between friendship, and more than friendship. Across a line that was uncharted, that was full of infinite possibilities. 

“I’m thinking about you too,” Harry murmured. 

For the hundredth time in the past two weeks, the world stopped. The snow stopped falling and the wind stopped blowing. The only other two things besides Harry that he was aware of, was the Anemonlea flower still in his hair, its bright petals bringing his mind right back to Harry, and the red gem touching his bare chest, humming softly. 

He was also aware of the awkward position he was in. He was sort of straddling Harry. He instantly corrected himself, moving to sit directly beside Harry again, the world stopped even as he changed his position. He was still incredibly close to Harry.

The way they were looking at each other was all wrong. Harry was straight, for Merlin’s sake. He couldn’t possibly love Draco when he fancied girls. The thought darkened Draco’s mood, and-

“I’m bi,” Harry said. “Bisexual. I- I like girls… and boys.”

Oh. “Oh.”

Harry was so close. Draco could feel his quick breaths on his face. This was it.

All of their fights, all of their shared animosity and hatred for each other, their hexes and jinxes and cruel words crawled through Draco’s mind. A rejected handshake. Quidditch matches. Dementors and the Triwizard tournament. The Inquisitorial squad. Sixth year. Draco crumbling under the pressure of the Dark Lord, and Harry following him every chance he got. Malfoy Manor and the lies he told to insure Harry and his friends' safety. The FIendfyre and Draco clutching onto Harry, terrified that he would die. 

But those memories washed away, and what replaced them was the good moments. The moments of them two actually getting along and working together. The two of them sharing jokes, and even sharing a bed. Draco apologizing to Harry, and Harry saying sorry to Draco for all of the horrors he had to encounter. Actually becoming friends, something Draco had wanted ever since he had found out about the Boy Who Lived.

Every moment, the good and the bad that made up their entire relationship, led to this moment right now. Draco had wished he could go back in time, all the way back to when they had first met, but now, he realized he didn’t want to anymore.

Because what he had learned from all their shared moments was that it made them who they were, and it led them to sitting next to each other in the snow, looking at each other like they were the only two people to have ever existed. 

He wouldn’t change a thing about their past. 

Harry was his present, and his future, and he wouldn’t dare change that for the world.

_No regrets._

And then Harry kissed him. 

Harry’s lips felt like fire and ice. Like something he shouldn’t be touching. But the thing was, he was touching them. 

He was kissing Harry Potter.

At first, it was a chaste touch of lips, both of them unsure of what they should be doing. But, with that uncertainty came the two of them wanting to experience more, even if things were quite diffident. 

It was a slow kiss, sparks flying between them and eating Draco alive. It was perfect. Harry’s lips perfectly parted his own, soft and delicate. He tasted like treacle tart and all things sweet. 

He thought he was content with just the touch of lips; they were Harry’s lips, for Salazar’s sake. But when Harry’s tongue slowly found its way into Draco’s mouth, _that_ was when he knew his life was complete. 

He was seeing stars, and not the ones that were stuck up in the night sky. The back of his eyelids were surrounded in stars, stars created by Harry’s touch.

Draco had never kissed anyone as lovingly as he was kissing Harry, and he was scared he was doing something wrong. Harry was basically in control, Draco thought he was parting his lips fine, but Harry was most certainly better. Harry’s tongue grazed his teeth and his lips, and Draco tried to do the same to Harry, but he failed miserably, and let Harry do what he was good at. 

Draco’s hands slowly slipped into Harry’s hair, gripping his locks and loving how _soft_ his hair was. Draco may have pulled a little too hard, though, as Harry let out a low moan. Draco laughed into Harry’s mouth, but that just made Harry kiss him deeper, something he hadn’t even known was possible.

Harry’s hand cupped Draco’s cheek, his finger rubbing the Sectumsempra scar that was there. His other hand made its way into Draco’s hair, and Draco melted all over again.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but they continued to kiss and kiss and kiss and Draco was content. 

He was more than content, he was in love, he was really in love with Harry, and Harry was maybe in love with him. 

No regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I also don't know how I wrote 10k words of conversation, but hey, life's a mystery. 
> 
> ... I hoped you enjoyed this chapter :) I'm actually really proud of this chapter, it's probably my favorite yet, even if did take me almost a month to write it.
> 
> Next chapter... sometime!


	13. The Shell of a Wounded Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then two became one.

_The Great Hall was filled with noise; laughter, playful shrieks, the voices of students bouncing off the walls. It was a joyous atmosphere. Draco hadn’t remembered Hogwarts feeling so alive since before the end of fourth year._

_Everywhere he looked, he caught sight of green decorations scattered about the place. Slytherin green. The Hall was adorned in his house color, since he’d been the one who’d saved the world._

_The name, ‘Draco Malfoy’ would go down in history, that was for sure. He’d been the one to slay Voldemort. It was a simple task really. All he’d had to do was cast_ expelliarmus _and the spell had done the rest. Who’d have known such an effortless spell would rid the world of Voldemort once and for all?_

_Reporters had repeatedly asked him if there had been more to it, but every single time Draco would laugh and tell the truth; it had really been as simple as casting one single, easy spell. All he’d had to do before that was get Voldemort alone, without his henchmen, and be brave enough to face the darkest wizard head on._

_Harry was sitting directly next to him, his hand on Draco’s thigh, and his side pressed up against Draco. Next to Harry was Hermione, and next to Hermione was Ronald Weasley._

_Across from Draco at the Slytherin table, the table that was incredibly crowded due to its new found popularity, and everyone wanting to be as close to Draco as possible, was his best friend Pansy, and his other best friend Blaise._

_Crowded around Pansy and Blaise were the rest of the Slytherin seventh years, along with the three other houses sitting as close to them as they could possibly get._

_“Draco! Mate! Tell us again how you defeated old Voldy!” Theo exclaimed, his elbows resting on the table, trying to get a better look at the Savior._

_“I’ve already told you guys a dozen times!” Draco said, and everyone around him laughed hysterically._

_Draco had no idea he was so funny._

_Theo was about to speak again when McGonagall spoke from the Headmistresses chair at the front of the Great Hall. “Attention! Attention everyone! I would like to make a toast.” Her gaze turned towards Draco, and so did everyone else's. He felt himself blush, and Harry pressed a kiss to the side of his throat. “I would like to make a toast to Draco Malfoy. The savior of the Wizarding World!”_

_Everyone collectively raised their glasses of butterbeer and spoke aloud, “To Draco Malfoy!”_

_Draco felt himself getting redder and redder now, but he had to admit, he did love the attention._

_Once Harry downed his butterbeer, he placed his hands at the back of Draco’s neck and pulled him in for a soft, slow kiss. “I’m so proud of you,” he muttered against Draco’s lips. Draco kissed him deeper, and then reluctantly pulled apart so he could look into Harry’s eyes, taking his boyfriend in._

_“Who, me? All I did was kill Voldemort. No big deal,” Draco said._

_Harry snorted, and then pulled Draco closer again. “Come here you.”_

_They kissed forever, until the people around them started making noises of mock displeasure. “Oi! You two! Please get a room!” Draco turned to look at who interrupted them so rudely, and to no surprise, found it had definitely been Ron._

_Draco narrowed his eyes at Ron, and Harry brought a finger to his chin to turn Draco’s head back towards Harry. “Draco, Draco, Draco,” Harry said. “I lo-”_

Waking up felt like a full lake of ice water to the head; cold and severely unpleasant. He wasn’t sure where he was- everything was distorted. He didn’t feel like opening his eyes, for fear of facing more cold unpleasantness. 

He felt rough, hard stone at his back and under his hands, and all of a sudden knew he was lying in the pavilion, the place he and Harry had ended up after their snowy rendezvous. The back of his eyelids were suddenly filled with flashes of the previous night: Draco crying, Harry talking, Harry sharing gifts, and their blissful snogging session in the freezing snow.

His mind was almost forcing himself to think it had all been a dream, but he was positively certain it hadn’t been. People usually said, “It’s too good to be true,” but in this case, it had been too good to be false. 

They kissed for _hours_ it had seemed, and he recalled how the freezing snow seeping through Draco’s clothes had been hugely outweighed by Harry’s body heat. He remembered drunkenly giggles and sloppy kisses, Harry’s hands roaming Draco’s body- but not going too far, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths, and the way how Harry’s mouth felt so good on his neck, nipping and sucking and making him disappear into the abyss. 

He had done the same to Harry, and he cringed at how inexperienced he had been at giving hickeys. Harry definitely hadn’t seemed to mind or notice, though. 

At one point Draco had even bloody _asked_ Harry how he was so experienced, to which he had responded, “Ginny,” which only made Draco kiss him more. 

While snogging, droplets of rain had started to fall, to which they took no notice too, but when the light drizzle had turned into a full blown rain storm, they had taken cover under the pavilion, which really hadn’t been the best place to go, since there was no walls to protect them, but they’d both been dazed and full of lust, not wanting to go too far as to ruin their moment. 

They’d fallen asleep pretty fast, their arms wrapped around each other, Draco breathing in Harry’s scent as he drifted into lovely dreams, dreams that he never wanted to end. He hadn’t remembered having a nice dream since… fifth year. Maybe even third. Who knew.

He opened his eyes slowly reluctantly, and noticed rain was still pouring down, thunder rumbling somewhere in the distance. He’d been too engaged in his memories of his night before to notice the storm. 

He also noticed that there was no warm presence by his side. He frowned and turned to his other side, waiting to catch his eyes on Harry’s sleeping body, when Harry also wasn’t lying on his other side. Harry was, however, standing up at the edge of the pavilion and looking out at the rain, no doubt getting drenched. 

“Hey,” Draco croaked out. Harry didn’t turn to face him. “Hey, Harry,” he tried again.

He thought perhaps Harry wasn’t able to hear him over the loud sounds of rain and thunder, but Harry did turn around that time. Draco was grinning, hoping for another snogging session, but Harry was most certainly not grinning. He had this look on his face, a look Draco couldn’t decipher. He looked, sad, almost, with maybe a tiny hint of anger and… disappointment. Draco wasn’t sure, though, Harry had never been this hard to read, he always wore his heart on his sleeve, which was one of the things Draco loved about him. 

Yesterday, Harry had told Draco that _he_ had gotten good at reading _Draco_. No one had really ever held that power. Though, maybe Harry had always been good at reading Draco.

Draco got up off the floor and made his way over to Harry. Whatever was bothering the Gryffindor, Draco wanted to fix it immediately. 

He rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry looked at him with concerned eyes. Concerned eyes for _Draco_ , not for himself. 

Draco couldn’t think of a single reason why he, Draco, should be concerned, he was living his fantasy. He’d kissed Harry Potter. His life was basically complete. 

He leaned in to press his lips to Harry’s, his eyes fluttering closed, when his lips touched Harry's cheek. He opened his eyes to see that Harry had turned his head to the side right as Draco had been going to kiss him. Did Harry regret what they had done last night?

Draco backed away a little, giving Harry the space he so obviously wanted. He could see the hickey on Harry’s neck, and Draco presumed his own neck sported several bruises too.

“What’s wrong? Is something wrong?” Draco asked, worried. “Do you- do you regret last night?”

Harry shook his head slightly. “No it’s not that. I-”

Draco slowly extended his arm to touch Harry. “Did _I_ do something wrong?”

Harry didn’t answer. Draco’s mind raced. What had he done? He seriously could not remember.

“Please don’t get mad. Or do get mad. You most certainly have the right too. But, okay, while you were sleeping…” Harry paused, not meeting Draco’s eyes. “God, you’re going to hate me so much.” Harry put his head in his hands.

“I could never!” Draco said. Harry dropped his hands to give Draco a pointed look. “I could never _now!_ I most certainly don’t hate you anymore.”

“I- I invaded your privacy, Draco! I was just worried about you, though. I thought something was wrong. I thought you were hurting yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Draco wasn’t mad at Harry. He actually felt more affection towards him at the thought that Harry wanted to make sure Draco was safe and okay.

“You were constantly grasping your arm. I know you tried to hide it from me, but I noticed. You were in pain. You always disappeared to the bathroom. I thought you were harming yourself!” Harry was on the verge of crying. Draco was starting to piece together what was going on, but he needed Harry to finish explaining.

Draco cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“This morning, I woke up, and you were sort of clutching your arm in your sleep.” Harry didn’t have to say which arm he was referring too. “I needed to know if you were harming yourself, so I could help you. I care about you so much, and I had to know if I was just imagining things or if there really was something going on that you were trying to hide from me. Something that was serious and something you needed to see professional help for.”

Draco’s eyes widened. Was Harry really implying that he-

“I pushed back your sleeve, Draco.” Harry’s voice was filled with so much emotion, it was surely sharp and dangerous enough to wound. “I saw a couple scars on… it. But they were obviously old.”

Somehow, Harry saying, “it,” pained him more than Harry outright saying, “The Dark Mark.”

“Draco,” Harry said. Draco knew what he would say next. It was the very thing he had hoped to hide from Harry, possibly for forever. “It was _moving_.”

Draco had to close his eyes as the impact of Harry’s words struck. He truly did not know how to explain to Harry why his Mark was moving. He had no idea himself. 

“How? Why? How long has this been going on?” Harry asked, his voice strained.

Draco was comfortable talking about many things. Those many things, however, did not include the war, the Dark Lord, anything even remotely related to the Dark Lord, and most of all, the scar on his forearm that signified all the mistakes he had made. A scar that would fucking be there for the rest of his life. It was just so humiliating, mortifying, shame-inducing, and any word connected to embarrassing. What was even more humiliating, was the fact that he was now having a conversation with Harry Potter himself about the tattoo on his arm that showed his allegiance to the man who had killed Harry’s parents and friends. 

He couldn’t back out of admitting to Harry the truth this time. The truth always came out one way or another. It was a statement Draco had forgotten throughout his entire time of lying to Harry, rather unfortunately.

“I thought _you_ were angry?” Draco said at last. “You looked so- so angry. Are you angry at me?”

Harry’s expression softened the smallest bit. If Draco hadn’t been studying every last inch of Harry’s face, he wouldn’t have been able to see it. “I don’t know what I am, honestly. Mostly confused, I guess.”

Draco shook his head back and forth. He knew he had to tell Harry _something,_ but he was weak. His anxiety about every last detail of his life clouded his mind, and his breathing came up short. He could tell that Harry was even more concerned for him than before. 

“Draco-”

“ _I’m fine,_ ” Draco bit out.

“You’re clearly not! What do you need? How can I help you?”

Draco needed to spill the truth, that's what. No matter how much it pained him, he needed to. It was something he should’ve done a while ago, and certainly something he should have done before having a full on make out session with Harry. 

He truly was a terrible person.

“I just-” he tried to calm his breathing, and focused on Harry in front of him. It was difficult to do at first, but he knew he had to be in the right space of mind to tell Harry his secrets. “This is just a hard subject for me to talk about,” he admitted.

Harry’s face softened even more, but at the same time, he still seemed angry and upset. He didn’t say anything, though. He was obviously waiting for Draco to speak first.

Draco took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes once again. “The Mark has been moving since that Saturday I saw you in the Hospital Wing. I don’t know why or how, it just… started randomly. I thought at first the Dark Lord had returned, but you said that wouldn’t be possible, and if there’s anyone I should take advice on _Him_ from, it’s definitely you, so.” He slowly opened his eyes again as he finished.

Harry started to take a couple steps towards Draco, but Draco backed away. He wasn’t done telling Harry everything he needed to say, yet. Certainly, when the full truth came out, Harry would stop looking at him with caring eyes. 

“You’ve been trying to deal with this yourself?” Harry whispered. “Oh, Draco…”

“I’m- I’m not done,” Draco said reluctantly. 

The rain seemed to intensify as the silence between them grew. Harry was starting to lose his tender look, something like hurtful realization replacing his soft eyes. Thunder made a sickening sound in the background.

“This is pretty obvious if you think about it, but the day it started moving...”

“Is the day before the sleeping curse happened,” Harry finished, understanding of the situation washing over him.

“So for the longest time, I kind of thought it had to be related to the sleeping curse, right? Because it was just too much of a coincidence that the Mark, and the curse, and the protective ward happened around the same day. I hadn’t been sure, obviously, and I’m still not one hundred percent sure, but…” Draco pulled out the crumpled letter in his pocket, slightly feeling the edges of the photograph he and Harry took last night. 

Harry was eyeing the piece of parchment like it was the Dark Mark itself. Draco honestly thought it was the next best thing, considering it held vital information on the Mark, information Draco hadn’t shared when he’d gotten the letter. He took out the other letter too, the one he had originally written, and handed both to Harry, telling him to read the less crumpled and ruined one first.

Once Harry had read both letters, Draco took them back and stuffed them away. Harry was keeping silent. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Draco was not sure.

Draco looked down at his feet. “So, that's all I know about the Dark Mark, I swear. If you-”

“When did you write this?” Harry asked, annoyance and pain seeping into his voice. “When did you get the response? And how on Earth did you surpass the ward that's keeping us locked in?”

Draco explained every detail of how he had done it. He explained how he used the spell to break magical wards, Obice Confractus, out of Snape’s book, and how he’d assumed the spell would allow the passage of only small objects through the ward, rather than human bodies, or breaking the ward as a whole. 

“So, yesterday when you were standing in front of the open window, you _had_ heard something other than the wind. It’d been the owl, delivering your father’s response,” Harry said, coming to the correct conclusion. Draco nodded his head shamefully. “I knew it. I could just tell something else was going on other than the _wind._ ”

Draco had to admit, he felt a hint of gratitude for Harry, since he had left well enough alone when he suspected Draco had been lying about what had been tapping at the window. On the other hand, if Harry had voiced his suspicions aloud then, Draco probably would have revealed all the secrets he’d been keeping right then and there, and they wouldn’t have ended up kissing each other while Draco had been full of lies.

“Wait, so this means all the other… the other…” Harry trailed off. 

“The other Death Eaters, you mean,” Draco said in a flat tone. 

Harry gave him a pitying look. “Yeah. So their Dark Marks are all alive too?” 

“In theory, yes. I wouldn’t understand why it would just be my father and I affected by it. But, you really don’t think He’s back again, do you?”

“No. I’m sure Voldemort is dead. But I’m also confused about one other thing. If you sent a letter to your father, why didn’t you also send a letter of distress to the Ministry or something? Don’t you want us to have help?”

The only way Draco could explain to Harry why he hadn’t written a letter for help, was to tell him about the Figure’s offer. So that’s what he did.

He told Harry that he had thought about sending a letter for help right after he sent his first letter, but then Harry distracted him and he couldn’t get time alone that day to send a new letter. And then that night, he had his last vision, the Figure telling Draco that he was to get Harry’s blood, in return for the Figure not killing his loved ones, and if he didn’t comply by the end of the two weeks, his loved ones would be killed, and everyone subject to the sleeping curse would stay asleep forever. He also explained the threat that if Draco sent another letter, the figure had said something horrible would happen.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed and his face scrunched as he listened to Draco explain what he should have told Harry the day it happened. Harry was most certainly not pitying Draco anymore.

He felt a single tear roll down his cheek as he finished talking. Just another thing to add on to his list of why he hated life. He now cried all the fucking time, thanks to Harry breaking down his walls.

All Harry had to say after Draco finished his incredibly long clarification of the past weeks, was; “You could have just told me.”

“I was too scared!” Draco cried. “I told you last night that I hadn’t changed, and this is what I was talking about! I blindly followed another dark wizard, Harry! And I didn’t even have the courage to ask for help. Looks like the war hadn’t taught me anything.”

Harry shook his head. “Just- just wait. I’m not talking about all that yet. I’m saying, in the library, that day when you wrote that letter to your dad, you could have told me. I could have written a letter to the Ministry while you wrote Lucius and everything would have turned out okay. We could have possibly had a solution, before the Figure told you to not send anymore letters.”

Harry made no sense. If they had done that, who knew if the Figure would’ve just killed people anyways, without warning Draco first. He hadn’t _had_ to warn Draco not to send another letter. Also, Draco already explained that overall he’d been too fucking scared, and telling Harry about his Mark was not something he’d wanted to do.

“Were you planning on doing it?” Harry gritted his teeth. “Were you planning on- on giving my _blood_ to him?

“Harry of course not! I didn’t even consider it! I could never hurt you!”

“But you did, Draco. You hurt me.”

A flash of lighting lit up the sky. 

“Harry I’m so sorry! I never wanted this to happen!” Draco was practically screaming now.

“If you hadn’t wanted this to happen, you should have confided in me. I trusted you, Draco. You specifically told me you wouldn’t hold back any vital information from your visions.”

The world felt so cold. Colder than it had been the night before, when it had been snowing. When they had laid in the snow. Together. 

The chain with the gem attached now felt like a weight hanging around his neck. The Anemonlea flower was lying smashed and forgotten near the area where Draco had slept. The photo of them both in Draco’s pocket was now a dead memory, something that could never be revived.

It was all Draco’s fault.

Harry started to take small steps toward Hogwarts’ entrance. Draco panicked and rushed in front of him, blocking his way.

“Harry! I need you, please! _Please,”_ Draco begged. He was willing to drop on his knees and grovel at Harry’s feet if it would cure their relationship. 

Oh how the mighty have fallen; fallen for love.

“I just- I’m just so confused! Why- how could you do this to me?” Harry said, his eyes full of flames. “After everything we’ve been through. You lied. You put us both in danger. And now we don’t have any time left to fix things. I actually was starting to believe your visions held no truth, but now that I know the Figure _talked_ to you, and you talked to him, and he made you some sick offer, it sounds exactly like something Voldemort would do. And I hate to break it to you, but Voldemort was very much real.”

“We weren’t friends in the beginning of these two weeks! I had it in my mind that I didn’t have to tell you anything, and-”

“But you wrote that letter and had that vision when we had already become friends, Draco. You know that. Don’t make excuses.”

“I’m not trying to! It’s just- we hadn’t even said aloud if we were friends or not yet, and a part of me thought we weren’t; that you were only being kind so we could get through these weeks together. And when we became friends, I was too frightened to tell you about the secrets I’d been keeping, because I didn’t want to mess our friendship up! Yes, I know it’s stupid, but I’m stupid, and I don’t think clearly.”

Harry contemplated what Draco had said, and for half a second, Draco thought that Harry might forgive him. “But how am I supposed to know that you won't change your mind about slicing my skin, bringing my blood to another dark wizard to save yourself, huh? Any sane person would get as far away from you as possible. So, that’s what I’m doing. Leaving.” Harry pushed past Draco, now walking out in the rain.

Draco rushed out in front of Harry again, soaking his nice clothes to the brim- not that they hadn’t already been ruined from the night before. 

Harry stood in place, absolutely furious. The rain running down his face and dampening his hair added an intensely dramatic effect. “You need to leave. Right fucking now.”

“You don’t know what’s going to happen today! A dark wizard really could be coming, and you don’t want to be left alone!” Draco tried to reason with Harry.

“I’ve already defeated one dark wizard, how hard can defeating another one be?”

“There are not enough words in any language to describe how sorry I am for lying to you, Harry, and snogging you last night with the weight of all my lies was wrong! I know now! I’m so, so sorry. Just- please don’t wander the castle alone. It’s truly not safe. Please.”

Harry had been avoiding eye contact for a while, and so had Draco, but now their eyes met. Harry’s gaze was unwavering and truthfully very frightening. Draco could now clearly see the man who had defeated You-Know-Who.

“You’ve already made your decisions, and now I make mine. You’ve done what you had thought was best for you, and now I’ll do what’s best for me,” Harry said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Snape’s book, shoving it into Draco’s arms. “I just need time to think things over. Alone.”

Harry gave Draco one quick, longing look. “Goodbye, Malfoy.” And with those words, he made his way to the front doors of Hogwarts, vanishing as he went inside.

The rain poured down on Draco as he stood still in the middle of the grass. 

He could defeat anything with Harry by his side, he’d told himself. But when Harry was gone, what was he to do? 

_I honestly can’t imagine my life without you in it._

It was funny how days ago, those words had held value. Harry had cared for him. Harry had trusted him. Harry had wanted to have Draco in his life.

It was funny how words could lose value as quickly as secrets revealed themselves.

\---

Draco stormed into the Room of Requirement, ripping off his thoroughly drenched clothes. 

When he had made his way into the castle himself, he respected Harry’s wish to be left alone, albeit reluctantly. He knew that if the situation were reversed, he’d want to be alone with his thoughts too, and not surrounded by the presence of the person who had lied to him.

Though, he had considered locating Harry on his map, but when Draco searched all his pockets for it, he found that the map was not in his possession, and walking back outside to search for Harry’s magical map seemed foolish too- he told himself he would become ill if he was outside for too long- and so he just hoped Harry had his map. It seemed important to him. 

He had been alone for at most ten minutes, and he already began to miss Harry more than his mind could even comprehend. They promised never to separate, but here they both were, breaking that key rule, and not for the first time.

Harry was wandering somewhere around Hogwarts, and every minute that passed by, Draco became more worried that Harry was in danger. Danger because of Draco’s poor choices.

The pile of Muggle clothes he had taken off were lying on Harry’s bed- _their_ bed- which made his heart ache painfully. He’d become so weak for Harry. Moping about his clothes on top of red sheets. But he wouldn’t trade being weak for the one he loved, for anything in the world.

The Room of Requirement provided a set of new, clean clothes, which consisted of jeans and a jumper, (his usual attire), and Draco pulled them on hastily, ignoring the horrible burning in his forearm. A burning more terrible than usual. It was slightly easy to ignore the pain, however, since the pain over losing Harry, because of his foolish mistakes, was even greater.

He decided he needed to do _something,_ rather than mope around in their makeshift bedroom. He didn’t know what that something would be, but he’d find it out. 

His Slytherin robe hung on his bedpost, staring at Draco. He found he _was_ rather on the cold side, and slipped it on over his black jumper. 

Snape’s mystical book sat at the foot of the Gryffindor bed, along with his wand, necklace, and photograph. He grabbed three of the items and stuffed them deep into the pocket of his robe, and hooked the chain clumsily around his neck, not bothering to tuck the gem under his shirt.

He wasn’t sure what to expect from today, but he would most certainly be prepared. He looked at himself in the mirror, his blond hair almost glowing, noticeably standing out against his mostly dark outfit. He pictured Harry standing by his side. A little bit shorter than Draco, much more muscular, and incredibly handsome. Oh how he missed the git. 

With one last look at the Room of Requirement, he set out into the corridors, attentively searching for anything out of the ordinary. 

\---

He’d told himself he was going to be productive. He was going to look out after Hogwarts, defending the school from a hooded figure. And, possibly, if he came across Harry, he would try to apologize to him for the hundredth time. 

But what was he doing instead of patrolling? He was sitting at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Moping in misery. 

Being a Gryffindor was in fact not something he was good at. He’d always hated the idea of being associated with Gryffindor in any way, but now he longed to have courage. He was starting to get the idea that he could never be anything but a coward. 

Roaming the halls and searching for whatever he was searching for, had proved useless and horrible for his mental health. Being left alone with his thoughts never got him anywhere. He realized that when Harry was with him, though, he became distracted and hadn’t felt so alone in the world. Sure, thoughts of anxiety still got to him, he figured even love couldn’t exactly cure trauma, but Harry always said the right thing to him, and made everything a bit clearer. 

Without Harry, he felt like the way he’d felt before the whole curse had started: terribly empty, alone, and like no one loved him. He felt like there was no reason to fight for another tomorrow, and how was he supposed to look out for Harry, and for Hogwarts, when he couldn’t look out for himself?

So, basking in his horrible memories related to the Astronomy Tower seemed like a great option. To remind himself that he was indeed a sucky person who had a less than ideal past. Because if he could remind himself about all the gruesome details, surely he would try and stay as far away from Harry as possible from now on. 

He didn’t trust himself to not make more horrible decisions, and he didn’t want to burden Harry with the thought that they had actually made progress in their friendship, when in reality, Draco was really deceiving him. 

Harry _was_ the savior of the Wizarding World, after all. He could hold his own. Just like he had said to Draco in the rain. Harry was more than capable of defeating whatever threat was coming their way, if there even was a threat at all.

The rain pouring down did not brighten his mood either. The thunder, though, made everything so much more dramatic, and no matter what he tried to tell himself, he was all for dramatics.

He sat against the farthest wall of the tower, his mind replaying the scene when he’d held Dumbledore at wandpoint on repeat. After a while, it got tiring, but no less sickening. He watched Snape use the killing curse, and watched himself freeze in absolute fear, and the dawning realization that _this was my life._

Thinking of both the real Snape and Dumbledore made him wonder what the portraits of them both were up too. Certainly nothing interesting. He chided himself for not remembering they were in the fucking castle with him and Harry, with the option of asking them questions if need be.

He turned Snape’s book in his hands, feeling the texture of the leather and smelling the scent of dust and old books. He had placed a good amount of trust in that book to provide them with the right potion for the sleeping curse’s cure. It had done _shit_.

Fury rose inside of him for allowing himself to trust a _book,_ when he became even more angry at Snape, for telling him all the rules of asking it questions, and looking so confident that it would work and that it would provide them with answers. “One of my finer achievements,” Snape had told him, regarding the book. _Finer achievements my arse._

He quickly rose to his feet, fueling his anger towards something a little more productive than sulking at the Astronomy Tower. He was going to go yell at Snape. 

He knew what he was about to do was entirely impulsive, a trait that most (all) Gryffindors had in them, and he didn’t care. Yes, he wanted to be brave, _not_ strong headed, but whatever he could work with would do at the moment. 

Draco ran down the millions of steps that made up the Astronomy Tower, almost killing himself three times by tripping, and once he reached floor level, his eager running turned into composed walking. Or, at least, mostly composed.

The walk to the Headmistress’s office was not far and as he reached the gargoyle, he spoke the password- which was still crumpets- and stomped up the stairs, throwing the door open and revealing himself to a startled looking Dumbledore and Snape. 

He was prepared for Snape to mock him and tell him how un-Malfoy like he was acting, as he no doubt looked like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum, all of the anger and shame of the mishaps of the day ready to burst out of him, but Snape had this expression that conveyed that Draco was more than allowed to be upset at the moment, and Dumbledore- like always- wore an expression that made it seem like he just knew _everything_.

“You- you _lied!_ ” Draco yelled while shaking. It was a bit rich telling someone else they’d lied when _he_ was really the ultimate liar there.

Snape’s eyebrows raised and Dumbledore glanced to the side to look at Snape. “Draco, what is this about?” Snape asked.

Draco pulled out the leather bound book, the words “The Hearts’ Deepest Secret Will Uncover More Than What You Seek” engraved on the front. He showed the cover to Snape, walking towards his portrait so he could get a completely clear look at what Draco was yelling about.

“You told me this book would provide me with any spell, potion, or any wizarding knowledge I planned to seek! I trusted it to help Harry and I with solving this _problem_ that we attempted to fix! You sounded so sure of yourself when you told me how this book works! And- and it failed us!” What Draco meant to say was, _I failed Harry._

He went on, “I know I told you last time that everyone in this castle was asleep, and you know what Harry and I have been doing the past two weeks? Trying to save everyone’s arses, that's what. We needed that book to help us with some cure to wake everyone up, and we made the antidote alright, but when we tested it, _it didn’t bloody work!_ ”

Draco realized, in that moment, that he _also_ hadn’t told Harry that the reason he’d been so intent and keen on making the Restorative Potion perfect was to save himself. Sure, he guessed he did want to save the school, whatever, but he never clarified that he’d thought that if they could wake up McGonagall, she could possibly help out with his own problems in some way.

Snape was squinting at the book still held in Draco’s hand. “Draco, come closer,” Snape said.

Draco did as he was asked, and practically shoved the book in front of Snape’s face. 

“That is not my book,” Snape simply said.

Draco stood in shock. “What?”

“The one I had originally made had a dark red streak going across the cover. That one does not.”

Draco flipped the book so he could stare at the cover. It did indeed, have no sign of another color other than the dark brown of the leather. 

“So you’re telling me-” Draco shook with rage- “That this book we’ve relied on for days and days and _days,_ is a fraud?”

“It seems like it, yes.”

“How are you just realizing this now?”

“Well, your first and _only_ other visit here, I didn’t get a close up look at my book. But now, I can see clearly that someone had obviously replaced the real version with a fake.” Snape did not seem concerned about that fact _at all,_ which only made Draco even more angry.

Draco wanted to break something. He’d never felt more furious in his entire life. They had wasted a whole entire week brewing the Restorative Potion based off of the instructions out of a _fake_ book. No wonder it hadn’t worked when they’d tested it out on Theo.

But, Draco _had_ been able to send a letter successfully using the spell to surpass barriers. Granted, the spell hadn’t worked on breaking the actual barrier as a whole, but it had worked nonetheless. 

How could things become more confusing as he found out more answers? Logically, it didn’t make sense. 

Dumbledore’s voice broke through Draco’s thoughts. “Draco,” he said, “May I ask, where’s Harry?”

Harry. Merlin’s sake. 

It wasn’t like the swapping of Snape’s book was dangerous, but the thought that someone had somehow found the secret hatch, and was now in possession of a book that could reveal to you any information in the world that was known, was terrifying. 

He gritted his teeth, once again feeling the pain wash over him as he thought about how Harry was somewhere alone in the castle.

“I made a terrible, terrible mistake, Professors,” Draco said. The only reason he had admitted that out loud, was because he deeply felt he _had_ to tell someone, now that he was alone.

Snape and Dumbledore glanced at each other. Snape spoke carefully; “Draco, if you need help, I-”

“I have to fix this on my own,” Draco blurted out. This time, he _was_ actually grateful for the offer of help, but he knew that he had to make things right between him and Harry by himself. There was no other way.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m positive.”

Dumbledore smiled down at Draco. His eyes sparkled, and Draco felt the anger inside of him subside, replaced with a hint of courage. “Go find Harry, Draco.”

Draco nodded at both of his old professors. “I will.”

He stuffed the fake book back inside his pocket, and took one last look at Snape and Dumbledore, before setting off to go find his true love.

Once he passed the gargoyle, his mind completely focused on Harry, thinking of all the different places he could be.

His wand was held firmly in his hand, the Dark Mark on his arm stinging and calling out to him, but he ignored it. He briefly remembered that it was pointless carrying around his wand, as he was not allowed to cast any defensive charms, but it wouldn’t even come to that if he could find Harry before something terrible could find him first.

He tried to conjure up his knowledge of all the places Harry liked to go to be alone. He wouldn’t be in the Room of Requirement, obviously, and he wouldn’t have gone back outside, so those options were crossed off his mental list. He could have gone to the Garden of Mystics, but Draco doubted he would choose to go somewhere so obvious; somewhere where Draco would find him easily.

He wished that he was in possession of Snape’s actual book, so that he could ask for a spell that would allow him to find people.

The lightning, rain, and thunder did not help with concentration either. Every single minute, it seemed to be getting louder and louder, and Draco wondered if that was even possible. 

Seeing as he really didn’t have any theory of where Harry could have gone, he figured he would start at the bottom of the school and work his way up. He could cast _Homenum Revelio_ as he went along to detect a human presence. 

He made it to the dungeon corridors, figuring he would start there on his search, as it _was_ the lowest point at Hogwarts. 

He stopped in front of the Slytherin common room entrance, wondering if he should check in there- Harry knew the password, since he’d heard Draco say it multiple times- when he decided to first check Slughorn’s classroom.

The two of them had spent a good amount of time in that room together, Draco stirring the potion while Harry sat on the nearest table and talked to him about anything. He figured it was a good, and sentimental, place to look.

He neared the entrance to the Potions room when he _swore_ he heard a noise. It did not make the situation he was in less creepy, that was for sure, as he was in the darkest part of the castle, by himself. 

Or maybe not by himself.

“Harry?” Draco called out. He turned in his spot, his wand shining light throughout the corridor. “Harry, if you’re there, please come out. You don’t even have to talk to me, and I don’t have to talk to you if you’d rather me be silent, but I don’t want to be alone, and I’m sure you don’t either and-” he was making matters worse, he knew it. But he was scared. He was scared out of his mind. He hated being alone, it really was the truth. 

There was a noise coming from outside. It startled him _so fucking much_ and he once again wished to have Harry by his side to make everything bearable again. 

It had obviously been lightning, he told himself. And he would have believed it had the sound not started again. The noise was almost like someone dropping a vase and breaking it, pieces shattering, except on a larger scale. Then there was a huge _boom,_ and Draco almost wet his pants. Almost.

“Harry?” He tried again, except this time his voice sounded unsure. 

The noise he heard the first time, the small noise that had obviously came from the dungeon, came again. It really did sound like another person was with him. _Harry_.

“ _Homenum Revelio!”_ he said, walking towards the noise. 

Draco more or less felt the presence of another person deep inside him, and sped up his pace down the corridor. It had to be Harry.

Except, when he got to the place where he _felt_ another presence, there was no one. Nothing in sight except for the stone walls and the dusty floors and-

A Slytherin tie.

There was a green and black tie with the snake emblem attached, lying near the stone wall. He wouldn’t have been able to see it was not for the light coming out of his wand. 

He carefully approached the tie like it might bite him, and looked up and down the hall, squinting to look for some other piece of clothing or artifact, with no luck. He knew where he was at, it was an adjoining corridor that led to Slughorn’s room. He and Harry had used it countless times. And out of all the times they had used it, there had never been a Slytherin tie there.

The last time they had used the exact corridor Draco was standing in was Saturday morning. Yesterday. Saturday morning, the hall had been filled with light seeping through one of the only windows in the walls, the sun filling the water of the Great lake, making the hall visible enough. 

He would bet his life on the fact that the Slytherin tie had not been there when he walked through the corridors Saturday. 

His stomach sank and his heart raced. He was most certainly not alone, and the other presence was definitely not Harry Potter, unless he suddenly became a Slytherin in the time they had been separated, and Harry somehow got dressed in a Slytherin uniform.

It dawned on him, that the only other person in the castle who even had the slightest possibility of being awake, was the same person who he and Harry had given the Restorative Potion to. The same person who they’d used as an unwilling test subject. The same person who hated Draco’s guts.

Theodore Nott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to say thank you so so soooo much to everyone who reads, bookmarks, comments, and leaves kudos on this story. I can't even use words to describe how grateful I am <3
> 
> Next chapter will be THE chapter guys! Where everything comes together and the story comes closer to the end.
> 
> It will probably take me a while to write it, as I have to make sure I've included everything I wanted to include and that I wrapped up the plot in a way where I don't leave people confused, but I promise I'm NOT abandoning this story. 
> 
> I'm expecting the next chapter to be maybe 10k words? So it really will take me a while to write, but I'm excited for the challenge :)
> 
> Also, happy birthday to Harry!


	14. A Hero's Beginning and End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What truly defines a hero?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood  
> It's not incredibly graphic, but it is there and may be triggering.  
> Starts at "Before he even registered" and ends at "Reparifors"
> 
> So sorry for the long wait! But it is finally here! I hope you all enjoy, and my suggestion to everyone is to read carefully as to not be too confused; a lot of information is uncovered in this chapter and it really is A LOT!
> 
> This is my longest chapter yet with a whopping 16k words, so grab your popcorn and be prepared!

The possibility of _Theo_ being _awake_ was a little hard to wrap his head around, but crazier things had happened in the past weeks, so he figured he shouldn’t dwell on it too much now.

A noise coming from the direction of Slughorn’s room startled him, and he immediately had to calm his breathing.

Why was he so… worried? About Theo being awake? It wasn’t like Theo had the guts to do anything _too_ terrible. He was probably just wandering the halls, confused out of his mind as to why the entire castle was empty, and why his roommates and House-mates were all dead asleep. It was around one in the afternoon, and even though it was a Sunday and classes wouldn’t be going on, a whole House wouldn’t just be sleeping in the middle of the day.

But, the whole situation just felt odd. It sort of felt like a zombie rising from the dead: insanely creepy. 

After a whole fucking day and two nights of _waiting_ to see if Theo had moved, the whole thing had seemed pointless and he and Harry had lost all hope of the potion actually working.

He was proud of himself, of course, since the potion he had brewed had potentially worked after all, and he guessed he was glad to see that Theo hadn’t died, but Theo wasn’t important right now. Harry was.

He could explain everything to Theo after he found Harry and glued him to his side so Harry wasn’t able to walk away again. 

There was yet another noise, definitely coming from Slughorn’s classroom, and Draco groaned, because he knew he had to check it out. If it really was Theo, maybe he could even enlist him to help Draco find Harry. Surely, Theo wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to save the world’s Savior.

He bolted down the hall and swung into the potions classroom, and started to call out Theo’s name. If he were in the potions room, he would most likely be visible to Draco right away. It was a dark classroom, but not _that_ dark. Plus, Draco had his _Lumos_ going.

“Theo? Theo are you in here?” Draco said, walking deeper into the room. It was certainly empty.

He walked in even deeper, regretting every step he took, because he knew he should be searching for Harry, but he also knew he heard a noise in Slughorn’s room and it couldn’t be left unchecked, even though his mind enjoyed screaming, “HARRY, HARRY, HARRY…” every half of a second to remind him where his sole focus should remain. 

He didn’t need his mind to keep reminding him. His heart knew.

He neared Slughorn’s desk, and scanned it over one time, looking for a clue or something. 

What caught his eye, though, was a piece of parchment lying on the desk, above a bunch of other papers, that had the signature _Draco Malfoy_ written at the top. It was written in his handwriting, for sure, which made Draco even more confused. He couldn’t even remember the last time a written assignment was assigned for Potions. Well, there was work they had to do outside of class, but the parchment that he was currently observing had a very official sort of look to it.

Naturally, he picked the paper up, his eyes raking over it, and he realized that it was an exam paper; an exam he had completed. The date at the top indicated that he had completed the test three Thursdays ago. Which meant that that was the day he had gotten trapped in a storage closet on the seventh floor, and Harry had ended up saving him.

He remembered that day fairly well. He’d been angry that Harry of all people had rescued him; had been the one to see him in such a humiliating situation. Then, Harry had covered for him when they had arrived late to Transfigurations, telling the teacher outwardly that Draco had been trapped in a fucking closet. That had only made Draco more angry, because why the fuck did Harry have to go and tell the whole class about his unfortunate predicament? 

It all seemed childish, now. He’d been incredibly embarrassed because of what Harry had done that day, but that didn’t even compare to all the embarrassment he had felt throughout the past two weeks, and especially today. 

He shouldn’t have been so occupied by the fact that his Transfigurations exam was in Slughorn’s room, but he unfortunately was. 

Attached to the exam was a note from his Transfigurations teacher, Professor Wynn, writing to Slughorn because Draco had apparently gotten a perfect grade on the written exam, but Wynn was reluctant to give him an O. “ _What should I do?”_ Was the last sentence written on the note in Wynn’s horrible handwriting.

Draco’s stomach clenched and his eyes burned. Had one of his professors _really_ hated him that much, that he didn’t want to give Draco an Outstanding on one exam? He’d never gotten an O on other assignments in that class, now that Draco came to think of it.

Slughorn had a response all written out too, lying on his desk. Draco picked it up and skimmed it over, basically learning that Slughorn thought he should be given a Poor grade for his work.

He wanted to rip both of his Professors letters in half, along with his exam. He wanted to sit against a wall and wrap his arms around his legs, while he tried to disappear from existence. He wanted life to not be so fucking hard and awful all the time. He wanted to be good.

If his Professors still hated him, and wanted to give him Poor grades and converse with each other about his work and other things about him specifically, all because he had been stupid enough to work for the Dark Lord, then how was Draco supposed to save Harry, let alone the whole school? Every single person in the world was working against him, even his teachers; conspiring against him to make his life hell, even after the war was over.

How was he supposed to find courage, to find faith in himself, when no one else had faith in him?

He hated how this minor inconvenience placed so much doubt in his mind. 

He just wanted Harry. He wanted Harry by his side again. And he wanted to never let go. Ever again. He wanted to build a new future with Harry, one that wasn’t based on lies. One that would be full of honesty and truth. 

It was that thought, the thought of Harry Potter and his stupid green eyes and messy black hair, the thought that they could maybe have a future together if Draco put in so much more effort than he had before, that made him drop his Professor’s letters and his exam paper, and wipe away the doubt that was threatening to hold him captive.

Who cared what everyone else thought of him? Who cared if the world saw him as an evil villain? Well, Draco did. Draco cared a great amount. But he wasn’t about to let that stop him from finding the man he loved. 

He could worry about everyone else later. He would worry about Theo later. He would worry about the sounds that definitely had come from Slughorn’s classroom later. He would worry about the vial of deadly Bloodroot potion, that he had yet to return and was clanking around in his robes pocket, later. 

Everything and everyone else was later, and Harry was his now and forever.

Draco fled the Potions room, continuing his search for Harry, casting _Homenum Revelio_ every step of the way. He was now on the main floor, poking his head into classrooms and the Great Hall. No luck.

There was no way Draco would ever give up, but he really didn’t have a clue where Harry could be. It seemed like the easiest and obvious solution, to give up, but Draco knew what taking the easy path ensued, and it wasn’t something he wanted to take again.

The stairs that led to the second floor appeared in his line of sight, and he was about to climb them when a harsh ringing filled his head. It wasn’t the type of ringing that came when he thought about his past or when the world became too much to handle, but a ringing that grew louder and louder until his vision became completely black and he couldn’t see anything anymore.

For a second, he thought this was death. He thought he was dead. But he already knew what death felt like, it felt lonely and distant, it felt loveless and uncertain; it felt like a world where Harry Potter would never forgive him, where he would always be the villain in Harry’s eyes.

This death felt even more uncomfortable and shaky. And then, it felt more than familiar, because as his vision started to clear, he realized he was standing near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. 

He wondered how he had transported there, and how that was even possible since you couldn’t Apparate on school grounds, when he saw that the edges of his vision were blurred, and the Figure with the hooded cloak was standing before him. It was another vision, except this time, it felt more real than it ever had before.

“Hello, Draco,” the Figure said. Draco assumed he was smiling maniacally under his hood.

The Figure’s outside appearance didn’t look any different than he had the other times Draco had seen him; the hooded cloak and scary composure hadn’t changed at all.

“I’d like to talk to you,” he spoke again. 

Draco was fuming now. “Where’s Harry? Have you done anything to him? Did you hurt him?!”

The Figure disregarded his questions. “I’d like to talk to you in person, if you will.”

“I will not! I won’t do anything you say until you tell me if you’ve done anything to hurt Harry!” Draco practically screamed.

The Figure kicked something at his feet, which made Draco look down at the motion. There was something- or someone- lying completely still where the muddy ground of the forest and the wet grass of the lawn came to meet. It was still raining outside rather viciously, and it partly obscured Draco’s vision, but he knew, he knew from the bottom of his heart that that someone who was lying in a curled up position next to where the Figure’s cloak touched the ground, was Harry.

“No,” Draco breathed. He wished it were him lying in the rain, possibly dying from the cold, the rain beating down, and enduring whatever the Figure had done to him. He deserved it more than Harry. Harry had done nothing wrong. 

“Meet me at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, near the gates that lead out to Hogsmeade, and-” the Figure kicked Harry’s body again, which made Draco’s blood boil about a thousand times over, “you can save your precious Savior.”

The Figure didn’t need to tell Draco twice. He didn’t need to tell Draco when he should arrive, because as soon as his vision became normal again, and he was staring at the set of stairs in front of him, Draco ran throughout the castle, moving as fast as possible, trying to get to the front entrance.

He had been lucky enough that throughout the past two weeks, he had done a significant amount of walking and running, so he was able to run a long distance without feeling the need to be sick.

In the back of his mind, he had a terrible thought that somehow Theo was involved in all of this- working directly with the Figure. It was a bit much even for him, seeing as Theo mostly stuck to childish pranks such as locking someone (Draco) in a closet or beating the living hell out of someone (Draco), but that was exactly what Draco would've found funny only a couple of years ago, and look where childish jokes got him. 

As much as he hated Theo, he wouldn’t want him to go through the same exact thing Draco had gone through with the Dark Lord. _Or_ , an even worse thought, was that Theo _was_ the Figure in the hooded cloak. 

Draco kept running.

Before he knew it, he was sprinting across the Lawn, heading in the direction where the path to Hogsmeade was located. He had no time to cast a rain repelling charm or a heating charm, so the drops of water pelted him and made him even more wet than he had been that morning. The mud in the grass did not help his situation whatsoever. 

The tall silver gate that marked the start of the path to Hogsmeade came into view, and so did the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He was less than a minute away from saving Harry. Somehow.

He had to blink away the rain hitting his face, but on top of that, he had to blink multiple times to really make himself believe he wasn’t trapped in another vision, because standing before him, maybe about half of a kilometer away, was the Hooded Figure. 

Draco slowed his pace down, not trusting himself to not slip and fall in the mud right in front of the person who had fucking kidnapped Harry and used Draco.

Up close, in person, he still couldn’t see the Figure’s face, as it was hidden behind that cloak of his that never seemed to give way. Not that that was important.

On the ground, curled up in a limp form, was Harry. 

Draco couldn’t help it; he let out a miserable scream, due to his Dark Mark flaring up, and seeing _Harry,_ not moving at all. He crashed to the ground right in front of him. Harry, who wasn’t moving. Harry who _couldn’t_ be dead. He just _couldn’t_. 

“Harry! Merlin, Harry, I’m here. I’m here, I'm here and I’m not letting go.” Draco let the tears fall down his face freely. Draco was fussing with the other boy’s body, moving Harry’s head so that it rested on Draco’s lap, and so Draco could lean down and wrap his arms around Harry’s freezing stomach. Hopefully bringing life and warmth back into the liveliest person he knew. 

“Please don’t be dead, Harry. I need you.” Draco pressed a soft kiss onto the top of his head. “I can’t do this without you,” Draco sobbed. “Please, please wake up.”

“Oh, he’ll wake up. He’s fine,” said a voice. A hauntingly familiar voice. 

Draco raised his head, wiping the grime and tears from his face with the back of his hand. “You!” Draco yelled, his voice raspy. “What have you done to him?”

“I haven’t done anything,” the Figure said simply.

“What? Of course you have! Or else he wouldn’t be lying at the edge of the forest, not responding to anything I do or say!”

The Figure laughed. “I’m telling the truth, boy. _I_ have not done anything.” He turned his head to the side, almost like he was looking for something in specific. “He’s simply under the body binding curse.”

Draco glared at him. He didn’t really know what else to say. All he knew he had to do was comfort Harry, even if Harry couldn’t exactly feel it through the body-bind. He had to let Harry know that Draco had not forgotten about him, and that he cared for Harry so, so much.

At last, after his thoughts caught up with him, and he really realized that _standing in front of him was the man who had invaded his life the past two weeks_ , Draco screamed at the figure: “Show your face. SHOW YOUR FACE YOU COWARD!” Which did not do any wonders to his already charred throat.

The man laughed again. Draco fought the urge to use the killing curse on him right then and there. “Why, of course,” the Figure said, “Where are my manners? We haven’t even been introduced yet. Silly me.” 

All possibilities of _who the fuck could this man be_ raced through his head as he waited for the Figure to pull back his hood. He thought it really might be Theo, somehow. Or maybe it was Theo’s father, even though he _was_ currently in Azkaban, rotting away with Lucius. Though, escaping Azkaban had never been a problem before.

The Nott’s certainly both had a motive to make Draco’s life hell. Theo was angry that Draco hadn’t gone to Azkaban, when his father had. He thought Draco deserved it more than Theo’s father. Draco always thought Theo was right. 

Lucius Malfoy was another possibility, too. Maybe all this time, he wanted to get revenge on Harry, and using his own son in his terrible scheme was his cruel way of revenge. But, under all of his father’s hard outer core, Draco knew Lucius loved him. If he really had wanted to get revenge on Harry, Lucius would have never used his own son to get what he wanted. Not after the war.

The Figure slowly took off his hood, and Draco looked on intently as the face of the man became more and more visible every second. 

Draco had been wondering and fearing who it could possibly be for the last two weeks, and especially today, as it was the day the Figure had said he would basically infiltrate Hogwarts.

But, when the hood was completely off, and the man’s face was perfectly visible, Draco realized he had no idea who the man standing before him was.

The Figure had brown eyes, and brown hair. He looked old; worn out from exhaustion and revenge, when in reality, he was probably in his thirties. He looked like no one Draco had ever seen in his entire life.

There were obviously lots of people who loathed him, and wished him dead- people he did not know at all- but Draco really had been expecting that the Figure would have _some_ personal relationship with Draco and his family. To him, the discovery was sort of disappointing.

Draco almost laughed as he kept looking at the Figure. Sure, he looked intimidating, but he was nothing even comparable to the Dark Lord. Not even close.

Harry stirred slightly. His head twitched in Draco’s lap, and Draco immediately placed all of his attention back on Harry, smoothing down his hair, and keeping him warm.

“Draco?” Harry croaked out. He coughed, and then shivered, and Draco so badly wished he could just Apparate away with him, and live somewhere where no one could ever find them and hurt them. It was such a nice thought, but it would never be true.

“You’re going to be just fine. Just rest. No need to speak,” Draco said. 

Harry sat up a little more, and Draco tried to carefully hold him down, but Harry wouldn’t cooperate. “Draco, this man- this man-” He coughed again.

“It doesn’t matter who this man is. He’s a nobody.” Draco chanced a withering glare at the Figure, and saw that he was watching Harry and Draco thoughtfully, almost with an amused smile.

“Well, that’s partially true,” the Figure said. He snapped his fingers in the direction of the castle with a bored look in his eyes.

He was obviously snapping for _someone,_ although Draco usually associated that movement when a person wanted to call a dog. Draco thought back to what the Figure had said not that long ago when Draco had asked what he had done to Harry. _“I have not done anything,”_ the Figure had said. So, if he hadn’t done anything to Harry, and he hadn’t been lying, then that meant someone else had put Harry under the body-bind…

“Sorry I’m late, Father,” someone called out.

Another person was walking their way. A person significantly smaller than the Figure, but about the same size as Draco. The harsh rain made it hard to see who the person was from a good distance away, but as the person ran up to the Figure, and his face became clear, Draco knew exactly who the boy was.

_Alec. Fucking. Kaspian._

Harry coughed, not in the _‘I’m trying to break the tension’_ way, but in the _‘I’m terribly sick right now’_ way. “Draco, Draco it’s been Alec. Alec’s the one-” Harry said, but shortly broke into a coughing fit.

Draco pulled Harry closer towards his chest, his arms still squeezing tightly around Harry’s body.

He whispered into Harry’s ear; “Does that mean, the man is…” 

“It’s Drys Kaspian. Alec’s father. The one whose name is engraved on the entrance to the Garden,” Harry said, though he wasn’t whispering. The Figure- _Drys_ \- apparently heard what they were talking about, and his head snapped their way.

“You had no right to enter the Garden,” Drys snapped. It was weird to think about The Figure as _Drys_ , but the name of Harry’s capturer wasn’t exactly important.

Drys was still not nearly as frightening as the Dark Lord, but somehow learning that the man in the hooded cloak was Alec’s father all along, made everything a bit more real.

Harry was still leaning against Draco, and had stopped coughing for the moment. He looked like he was exhausted, and wanted to fall asleep terribly bad, but the idea of losing consciousness while in the presence of a dark wizard was not something Harry intended to do. Even at his lowest, Harry still set the bar high.

The Dark Mark gave a sharp sting, which made Draco realize he was still sitting at the edge of the forest floor, his clothes ruined and the rain pouring over everything, and Drys and Alec were watching him and Harry with disgust.

Draco shook his head. “What- WHAT is going on?”

The Kaspian’s both smirked. Which was Draco’s move. Fuck them.

It was Harry who spoke, and Draco wanted to tell him to just _rest_ , and that he’d deal with it, since Harry was obviously ill. “Alec kidnapped me, that’s what.” Draco couldn’t see Harry’s face, but Harry was clearly shooting looks at Alec that could kill. “He played all innocent and lost, and I said I’d explain what was going on. Then, the moment I turned my back, he cast a stinging jinx at me. I threw a spell at him, and then we were practically dueling-” he started coughing once again.

Alec rolled his eyes. “I’ll finish the story, if you don’t mind.”

Draco wanted to yell at Alec to go fuck himself, but saying that basically meant he accepted defeat. He thought about throwing his own curse at Alec, when he’d be least expecting it, but Draco literally _couldn’t,_ unless he wanted to go to Azkaban. The Kaspian’s already knew that fact, too. They were using it to their advantage.

Drys was standing impatiently behind Alec, his arms crossed and a firm expression set in place. He whispered something to Alec, and although Draco couldn’t hear what was said, he’d bet it had to do with something along the lines of: “Hurry. Up.”

Alec continued: “So, yeah, we were dueling and Harry slipped up at one point, which gave me the chance to cast this brilliant curse I learned that can make someone ill, and while Harry was distracted with the overwhelming feeling of sickness, I cast the body-binding curse and levitated him to my father.” Alec was beaming with pride. “Quite exceptional, don’t you think? A Mudblood defeating the savior of the Wizarding World!”

“I trusted you, Alec! I thought we were friends!” Harry half-shouted. “Seems like I put my trust in two people who didn’t deserve it.”

Draco almost recoiled. He wondered why Harry was allowing Draco to hold him the way that he was, when Harry was still angry at him. He started to move his arms back to his side, when Harry grabbed his wrist, a silent plead not to be left alone. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry even tighter.

“That’s all great and everything,” Draco said, “but _why_ did you kidnap Harry in the first place, and _why_ did I find a Slytherin tie in the dungeons, and _why_ the fuck are you doing all of this? You people love to talk in riddles, huh? Just get to the point already!”

Drys stepped forward, and Alec stepped back. “I’ll explain everything, young Malfoy,” Drys said, “however, before I do, you have to tell me, did you contemplate my offer? You had a week to think about it, which is a good amount of time.”

Harry stiffened, and Draco had to take a deep breath. “No, I didn’t even have to think about it. I would never _cut_ Harry just so you could have his _blood_. You’re crazy if you even thought I’d ever consider it! If you so badly want his blood, then _you_ take it yourself.” Harry made a choking sound. “I mean! Don’t do it at all!” Draco hastily added on.

Drys narrowed his eyes. “You know, I actually did believe you’d do as I asked. You are a Death Eater, after all. I’m honestly quite surprised you’re blatantly refusing.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but found he had no comebacks; he was a Death Eater.

Alec was now looking impatient, leaning against the nearest tree and shooting nasty looks at Draco. Drys moved even closer to him and Harry. 

Draco’s eyes moved to the forest, where he thought he saw more movement. It was hard to tell due to the trees and rain, but Draco guessed there were more than five other people waiting out deeper in the woods.

“Look, _child,”_ Drys hissed out, “you have two options here. I will only say this _once_. I have a blade on me, and I will give you that blade to cut Potter open wherever you like, as long as an ample amount of blood ends up on the blade. You will hand the blade over to me, and your family lives, along with everyone who is currently under the sleeping curse.

“The other option- the _foolish_ option- the one where you refuse to take my blade, would mean your family dies. Everyone under the curse stays asleep forever, slowly deteriorating until they die too. I will make sure that everyone who is left in the Wizarding World knows it is _your_ fault for the death of hundreds of wizards.” Drys cocked his head to the side. “So, it’s a simple choice, really.”

Draco watched the woods again, for the lack of an answer. He _swore_ there were people somewhere among the trees. They were outside of Hogwarts’ protective ward, along with the ward that Drys had allegedly put up, keeping him and Harry inside Hogwarts and Hogsmeade grounds. 

Drys was inside Hogwarts’ protective ward; the one McGonagall had expertly put up. _That shouldn’t be possible._ No one could come inside the school grounds, unless they were invited in by the Headmistress herself. 

“You’re not telling me everything,” Draco said suddenly, earning everyone’s full attention. “There’s people in the woods.”

“That’s not important,” Drys nearly yelled. “What’s. Your. Choice. _Malfoy_.”

“I’m not answering your stupid question until you answer mine. What’s in the woods?”

Drys gave an evil smile. “Fine. They’re your people.”

“My people,” Draco stated.

“You know, Death Eaters. You’re people.”

He didn’t want to hear that answer, but deep down he’d known what Drys would say.

Draco was shaking, in fear and anger and whatever other emotions were coursing through him, tangling up his insides and making it hard to breathe. “ _Why-_ ”

“I’ll answer all your questions _after_ you make your decision,” Drys stated, his impatience clearly visible.

He wished he could talk to Harry alone. He wished they could put their heads together and figure out the best solution to stop whatever Drys’s plans were. Draco was not cut out to make such a huge decision by himself, and even though Harry was currently resting in his arms, he didn’t feel comfortable asking Harry what he should do right in front of the Kaspians. He didn’t want the Kaspians to see how weak he was; not even able to make his own decisions. 

“What about Harry?” Draco asked, causing Harry to turn his head a bit. “What will happen to Harry in either one of the scenarios I choose?”

Alec scoffed loudly. He looked almost ethereal, leaning against a huge tree, the rain almost blowing past him and the shimmer from the wards hitting the side of his body. “Just do it already!” Alec shouted at his father.

Drys scowled in the direction of Alec, then looked back at Draco. “If you pick the right option, Harry will live. If you choose _wrong,_ then I’ll kill him right here.”

It seemed kind of selfish that Draco was more worried about what would happen to Harry, than what would happen to the rest of Hogwarts and his parents. Sure, the fact that hundreds of people were unconsciously counting on him to break them free of the sleeping curse was a pretty good motive to make the “right” choice, but Draco was still one hundred percent _against_ slicing Harry’s skin. Although, Harry dying _because_ Draco didn’t use the blade on Harry was an even worse outcome.

“Make a decision?” Drys asked, his face deepening with impatience and restlessness.

“One last thing,” Draco said, “why wake everyone up from the curse in the first place? Surely, it would be much easier to leave everyone in an unconscious state, so no one can stop whatever evil plan you’ve concocted.”

Drys sneered. “The more people who can live under my empire, of course. And trust me, no one will want to stop me. I’m going to be making the world a _better_ place, not a worse one.”

“Then why the fuck would I want you to wake everyone up? Just to be subjected to some dark wizard’s rule.”

“Would you rather them die?”

Draco didn’t say anything.

“You see, Draco. Whatever you choose, I’ll get my way. But the ‘right’ way will benefit you. So, like I said before, it’s a simple choice. Besides, if for some foolish reason, you’d rather decline my offer, and have your family, almost half of the Wizarding World, and Harry Potter _die,_ I still have the other part of the Wizarding World to guide. Sure, of course I’d rather have all of the Wizarding World, but waking everyone up from the curse isn’t a huge problem of mine.”

Draco was even more angry at himself, learning that even though Hogwarts and Hogsmeade were under a curse, the rest of the Wizarding World was perfectly fine. He’d _guessed_ that was the case before, especially after he received the letter from his father, but now that he had confirmation from the man who’d cursed everyone himself, Draco wanted to scream. He really _could_ have sent a letter for help to the Ministry. If he had, instead of sending a letter to Lucius, Draco wouldn’t have to make an impossible decision. 

“Times up,” Drys said. “What’s it going to be?”

Draco glanced at Alec, his face stuck in a tight scowl. He then moved his gaze to Drys, who was so tall and scary, yet nothing even comparable to the Dark Lord. He wished he could look at Harry. He wanted to know what Harry was thinking about all of this, and how he was dealing with the knowledge that Draco had the power to either mar Harry, or let him die.

The ground was so cold, the world so wet and gloomy, thunder and lightning creating a horrifying show all around them.

Draco was in a position of so much power. Power, where either way he chose to use it, would end up with people getting hurt. 

He’d wanted to be a hero so badly, and only yesterday, he would have given everything to do _good._ But the definition of good was so loose; so flexible and ever-changing. Drys had the idea that he was doing good, and maybe he really was. Harry, on the other hand, was _pure_ goodness, always thinking about others, and constantly wanting to fight; to do the right thing.

And Draco? None of what he was, or was doing, or _had_ done, was good. Every single step of the way, he’d known deep down that what he was doing was _wrong,_ even when on the outside, he’d been trying to tell himself it was right- that he was _good_. 

Maybe life was programmed for him to always end up in wrong situations, faced with obstacles that pointed to evil, even if right away it was not always visible. 

Drys’s plan was a trap in and of itself. There was no right, good, or better choice. 

For better or worse, Draco came to a conclusion. 

He finally decided what he would do, and hoped beyond hope that it truly wouldn’t lead to worse consequences.

He let Harry’s head fall back against his chest, and quickly kissed the top of his head, wanting Harry to know that he would be safe. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Harry.

Draco looked Drys directly in the eye. “I’m not accepting your offer. I won’t use the blade on Harry.” Draco didn’t know if he imagined it, but he thought he felt Harry exhale, and lean in closer to Draco’s chest. “You can’t afford to kill Harry, either, so I know you were lying about that part. And I will find a way to break the sleeping curse. You aren’t going to control me this time.”

Draco knew that Drys had been expecting Draco to go along with his plans; he saw Draco as a scummy Death Eater who would always take the easier path. After Draco finished talking, he suspected that Drys’s face would fall, and that he’d become so enraged, that he might actually leave Hogwarts, taking his band of Death Eaters with him along with Alec, to go find someone else who was suitable for cutting Harry’s skin.

Draco had been wrong.

Drys gave him a pitiful smile, contradicting everything Draco had believed. Alec gave a loud groan. It was _actually_ almost like they were expecting Draco to pick the “wrong” choice.

“Oh, Draco. Playing the hero, I see,” Drys said, “You could have had it all. You could’ve kept your precious family and _saved_ everyone. Are you sure you’re making the right choice? Are you sure you're doing what heroes do?”

“I’m not exactly sure what heroes do. But I know what I want to do. And I’m not changing my decision.”

Drys gave him another withering smile. “Shameful. I really did offer you such a good deal. I gave you a week to think about it, too.” He took out his wand. “Now, come here.”

He was about to protest and ask why Drys would ever even think he’d leave Harry and walk over to Drys, but a faint tugging encased him, and his mind started to go blank. He felt like he was watching the world from afar as he let Harry fall out of his lap and started to make his way over to Drys, who wasn’t standing that far away.

He thought he heard Harry’s voice, sounding pained and concerned, but he knew he was just imagining it. A small part of him told him to go back over to Harry, but why would he do that? Why would he fight the calm, warming sensation that left his mind cleared of all worries?

As he stood in front of Drys, he felt a cold, metal object being thrust into his grip. He wondered what it was, but couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He started walking away from Drys, and then he was standing over Harry. Harry’s face seemed sort of distorted, and his mouth was moving, saying something.

He knelt down in front of Harry, taking Harry’s right arm and holding it out in front of him. There were words on the back of his hand, but Draco couldn’t quite make them out. 

Before he even registered what he was doing, the metal object- which he now identified as a blade- began cutting through Harry’s forearm. There was so much blood, and Draco knew he would have been sick from the sight had it not been that his worries had mysteriously left him.

He pulled the blade away, and the sharp edge had a gracious amount of blood sticking to it and dripping to the ground. He felt content with what he’d succeeded with, and walked back over to Drys, handing the blade over.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Drys said. He started walking towards his son.

As Drys walked away, Draco felt like he was waking up or coming out of one of his visions. Things became _real_ once again, and his heart was beating rapidly; the rain beating down on him felt heavier.

He realized that he had just been put under the Imperius curse.

He realized that he had just cut Harry. 

He realized, that Harry was lying on the ground, and blood was spurting out of his arm. Harry was lying on the ground, with his eyes closed, and his breaths coming up slower and slower each time.

 _What have I_ done?

Draco fell down next to Harry, taking the arm he had just cut and holding it in his hands. He didn’t know much about the human body and the different arteries, but he was pretty sure he’d cut one.

Arteries were usually deep, though, and the cut didn’t _look_ that deep, but the blade could’ve been enchanted or some bullshit, causing more harm than Draco could physically see.

However, Draco did know how to deal with blood. He wasn’t amazing at healing spells, but he knew some that would more or less get the job done.

Blood was spurting out incredibly fast, and every second he wasted, Harry was more at risk of… becoming seriously damaged. Not dead. Death wasn’t even in the cards for Harry, because Draco would make things right, and if anybody was fated to die, it would be _him_.

Harry was unconscious, which definitely wasn’t a good sign, but Draco quickly pulled out his wand, his free hand keeping pressure on the cut in his wrist where blood was gushing out the most.

“ _Tergeo,_ ” Draco cast as he slightly lifted his palm from the cut. The blood surrounding the cut, but not coming from the cut, disappeared, and so did the blood that had ended up on Draco’s hands. It was a stupid spell to cast, though, since a new wave of blood came pouring out. 

Draco panicked, trying to remember all of the healing spells he knew.

“ _Reparifors!_ ” That spell did nothing. 

“ _Episkey!”_ That spell made the long cut across the forearm shorten, but the part that mattered most- the underside of the wrist- remained the same.

Draco raked his mind, gauging deeper and deeper, trying to think of _something_. He usually worked well under stress, but this stress was different; his own life wasn’t on the line here, Harry’s was. Somehow, trying to save a life instead of his own in the moment, was much harder. 

Just as he was ready to start casting the same spells he’d already said over and over again until one of them stuck, a charm came to mind. One he knew that if cast with the right emotion or strength, it would work wonders.

Harry’s breaths were becoming nonexistent, and Draco was shaking horrifically, but he had to be strong to cast the charm to make it work right. He could be strong.

Draco focused on Harry’s arm, his eyes steady on the entire line of the cut. “ _Rennervate!_ ”

What appeared as a simple spell used to revive people badly wounded, could be turned into a spell to _heal_ all wounds, along with reviving people, only if cast perfectly right. 

He thought he’d cast it correctly, but Harry wasn’t waking up.

Harry’s breaths became fewer and fewer.

His skin looked terribly pale.

_Harry wasn’t waking up._

_Wake up, Harry! Please! You can’t leave me. I know I’m being selfish, but please, don’t leave me._

Did the sky seem darker? Did the forest seem duller? Did life seem less happy and full of goodness?

Draco gently touched Harry’s cheek. He gently pushed back his hair that covered his lightning scar and brushed his thumb over it. He saw one of his tears fall on Harry’s forehead, trickling down and down.

“Harry,” Draco said, like both of their lives depended on it (it did), “I’m sorry. For everything. I never meant for us to end up in a situation like this. I’m sorry for all the times I insulted your parents, I’m sorry for all the times I hurt you and your friends: physically and mentally, and most of all, I’m so, so sorry for letting you trust me, letting you trust me to save everyone, and to save you.” Draco closed his eyes. “I failed us. I failed you. And now- and now-”

_And now you’re dying._

“You said I’d be the death of you. You were right.” 

Somewhere, deep inside himself, he expected Harry to jump up and yell, “Surprise!” and tell Draco that he was wrong, that Draco wouldn’t be the death of Harry Potter.

Harry never jumped up and yelled anything. 

He was grasping at nothing now, holding on to strands of hope that just weren’t there and were never coming. His mind told him to just give up, but his heart told him to keep trying.

_I never even got the chance to tell him I loved him. Not once. He doesn’t know my true feelings for him, and he doesn’t understand how sorry I am for everything._

Draco had pictured spending the rest of his life with Harry. He pictured lots of kisses and snuggles and late night walks. He pictured a future with lots of cleaning up, and lots of forgiveness, but he’d come to accept that that was okay. He knew things would be messy between them, and they’d have to fight to be together, but as long as they were by each other’s sides, they’d get through life and all its obstacles. 

His worst nightmare had been thinking that Harry wouldn’t want any kind of future with Draco. But the real nightmare began when Harry wasn’t even around to make that decision. 

_“I can’t imagine my life without you in it,”_ Harry had said to him, when really it was the opposite. Draco couldn’t live in a world without Harry Potter.

“ _Rennervate!_ ” Draco said again.

Nothing happened. Draco was truly starting to think Harry had died.

“C’mon, Harry. I can’t lose you,” Draco spoke, “I can’t lose you. You’re the best part of me. You make my life whole, and without you in my life-” _Without you in my life I’m lost. I’m just a shadow with no sense of direction or purpose._

“Harry, I- I love-”

Harry’s eyelids fluttered. “Draco?” he said, his voice almost not even there.

Draco was beyond shocked. He was wondering whether or not he was dreaming again. 

“Harry, is that really you?” Draco asked, hope flooding throughout his body.

Harry gave the faintest of smiles. “It's me, Draco. It’s me.”

And just like that, the world seemed to shift right back into place.

“Now wasn’t that quite the show,” drawled a voice. “I had hoped you would have done the job yourself, Draco. Would have saved me a hell of a lot of energy and magic, but oh well.”

Draco looked over to Drys, still standing next to Alec with a look of displeasure. 

Drys went on. “I hope you boys understand, but I’m now going to have to kill you, Potter. You’re of no use to me now.”

Draco wanted to protest and tell Drys that he’d done the job; Drys had Harry’s blood now, so there was no need to kill anyone. But Draco hadn’t actually done the job. He’d refused, not even thinking about the possibility that Drys could just _Imperio_ him to get what he wanted.

Without any type of warning, Drys lifted his wand arm, pointing it right at Harry. Draco was almost too stunned to move, let alone think, about what was going to happen as Drys started to mutter something under his breath, his expression now a look of murderous glee.

“STOP!” Draco yelled, getting to his feet and standing directly in front of Harry, hopefully shielding all of Harry’s body.

“Get out of the way,” Drys said through gritted teeth.

“Please don’t kill Harry. Kill me instead! Just leave him alone!”

“But killing you wouldn’t be as fun. I want you to be alive to witness all of the deaths you caused. I want you to suffer. Isn’t that clear?”

It was crystal clear, but Draco was trying to stall. He had to think of something to get him and Harry out of this alive. He had to _think…_

“What if I challenged you to a duel?” Draco blurted out.

Drys definitely looked intrigued. “Go on.”

“If you win, then you can kill Harry. Do whatever you want.” He paused, wanting to look behind his shoulder at Harry and make sure the other boy knew Draco would never let that happen. “But if I win, you let Harry and I go, and-”

“Let me stop you right there. You can’t even use any type of magic that can harm people,” Drys scoffed.

“I know. But I can defend myself.”

“Fine. But _if_ you win, we’ll discuss your reward _after.”_

Draco had to accept that was the best he was going to get out of Drys. “Alright, then.”

Drys nodded. “Alright.”

“Give me one minute, though. Please,” Draco said, wanting to talk to Harry before he entered a duel that would probably lead to Harry getting killed.

“One minute.”

Draco threw himself down next to Harry, who had just gotten over a coughing fit. He instantly put up an umbrella charm around Harry, something he should've done a lot sooner.

“Hey,” Draco said.

“Hey.” Harry’s voice was strained. It almost hurt to hear him talk.

“You’re going to be just fine. I’ll get us out of this.” He didn’t know if he was trying to reassure Harry, or himself.

Harry smiled weakly. “I know you will.”

Draco wanted to kiss him. Draco wanted to make some sort of endearing gesture before he entered a one sided duel. But now that Harry was fully awake and breathing normally, he was scared. Plus, any sort of gesture that meant ‘goodbye’ was a terrible idea. Goodbyes meant they’d never see each other again. Draco didn’t want to believe that would happen.

“If you can, try to escape. Run as far as you can. I’m guessing the wards Drys put up are going to be taken down soon-”

Harry glanced down at himself. “I don’t think I can run. I think something happened to my leg. And I’m sure I’ll just break into a coughing fit if I overestimate my running or even walking abilities. Also, Alec is probably going to be watching me like a hawk while you and Drys are occupied.”

Draco nodded solemnly, he’d guessed Harry wouldn’t have been able to run given the state he was currently in, but it was worth a try suggesting it. “Okay, just- just be careful. Don’t do anything too rash.”

“Times up,” Drys shouted, startling Draco.

Draco stood back up again, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come. He didn’t even feel like looking down at Harry one last time, but Harry grabbed his hand, forcing Draco to look down into his green eyes.

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. Instead of saying something, he squeezed Draco’s hand, and then let go. 

Turning back and walking towards Drys, Draco said: “You said you’d tell me everything about your little plan.”

“You’re right, I did.” Drys pointed his wand at Draco, and he saw Alec moving to stand closer to Harry. “But first, you need to see this.”

Drys was about to flourish his wand, and Draco’s first thought was that he was going to kill him right there, but he knew Drys wanted Draco alive too much to kill him. “A little less eager now, are you?” Draco said.

Drys hesitated. “ _What?_ ”

“Well, you made this big show about getting Harry’s blood, telling me to _hurry up,_ but now you want to stop and do-” Draco gestured at Drys’s pointed wand- “whatever it is you’re about to cast over me, and you’re making time for a bloody duel. What happened to the urgency, Drys?”

“I already got what I wanted,” Drys stated, a little too confidently. “Look around, my boy. I’ve accomplished what I’ve wanted to accomplish all along. Now, all I have to do is play a game of dueling, which is honestly going to be quite fun.” His eyes were full of so much hatred and pride. Draco wondered if his own eyes ever resembled anything close to Drys’s. He hoped not.

Draco had no idea what Drys was talking about. What had he done in the time span of retrieving Harry’s blood? What was Draco missing?

His forearm _seared_ with pain, and Draco couldn’t suppress the small scream he let out. He also couldn’t suppress holding his arm, to which Drys gave a tight-lipped smile.

“You’re resisting,” Drys said, “how peculiar.”

Draco, still clutching his arm, peered around the forest, knowing that he was obviously missing something. All he could see was trees without their leaves, and darkness, mixed with rain and fog. Although, things were moving. But he knew that they couldn’t have been the Death Eaters Drys had mentioned, _Draco’s people,_ because they had been deep in the woods, not passing Hogwarts’ protective wards.

But, as he stared harder at the surrounding area, he realized that they _were_ the Death Eaters. All decked out in black cloaks and circling the space where he, Drys, Alec, and Harry all were currently. Past the wards of Hogwarts. _Which shouldn’t have been possible._

“How-” Draco started, but Drys instantly cut him off.

“While you were off doing… who knows what you did, with Potter, I used what you gave me.” He made a grandiose gesture at the Death Eaters. “And now, you can meet my new friends.”

“You needed Harry’s blood to break the wards? That’s all you needed?”

“Partly.” He lifted his wand higher, pointing it directly between Draco’s eyes.

“Wait!” Draco exclaimed, but it was too late. 

Darkness surrounded him, circling around him like it was about to feast on its prey. It stopped as quickly as it started, though, and Draco was transported to a room in a house. It instantly reminded him of the room he would always go to in his visions with the Figure, but that room had been worn down and completely destroyed.

Unlike the room he was currently standing in, which was full of life and color, lots of decorations and family photographs littered about the place. It had a homey feel that Draco had never experienced before while living at the Manor.

There were two people sitting on the sofa near a contraption that flashed moving pictures and contained people talking. The two people, man and women, about maybe thirty, were leaning against each other, under a blanket. The moment felt so intimate, Draco had to look away. He stared at the giant windows letting in the night sky instead.

He then wondered why exactly he was here in the first place, but remembered Drys had cast some spell over him, probably taking him to this room for some reason.

He stuck his hand in his robes pocket, feeling around for his wand, wanting to escape from whatever he was trapped in, when he heard a loud banging at the front door. His head snapped to where the sound was coming from, and he heard someone pressing buttons to turn off the contraption with the loud noises and moving pictures.

The man and woman ran _through_ him, like he was a ghost, and the man stood in front of the door, telling the woman in the quietest voice imaginable to go hide and to find their son; Alec.

“But, Drys, what are you-”

“Just go and _hide,_ Olive. Hide. Run. Go.”

So that’s what Olive did, running up the stairs and coming back down with a boy Draco’s age, and going into a room which Draco presumed was the kitchen.

He looked back at Drys, who was masking how truly terrified he was, and opened the door to a group of people in black cloaks and silver, gleaming masks.

“Hello,” Drys said in a calm tone, “how may I help you tonight?”

The Death Eater at the front of the group looked down to read off of a piece of parchment. “Are you Drys Kaspian?”

“That’s me,” Drys responded.

“Father of Alec Kaspian and husband of Olive Kaspian née Brightly?”

“Yes.”

The Death Eater stepped through the doorway. Drys let them.

“You’re going to have to come with me,” the Death Eater said, then turned around to look at his comrades. “Find the woman and boy.”

Drys lost his calm composure immediately. “They’re not here!” He said, panicked.

The Death Eater let out a humorless laugh. “Search the house and surrounding area. Bring me their wands.”

Two Death Eaters standing behind the one in the front grabbed Drys by his arms, while the rest of the group trampled through the house, working smoothly and without any sort of hesitation. There were three Death Eaters who stayed out in front of the house, though, in a clump and talking to one another.

“Wait! WAIT! Please, just take me!” Drys cried out.

The main Death Eater stood in front of Drys while the two who were still holding Drys in place by his arms stood beside him. They didn’t say anything; just waited calmly until the rest of the group came back together.

About three minutes passed, the two Death Eater’s patted Drys down to check for his wand, which they found right away, and Drys screamed for help in heart wrenching volumes.

A group of black clad people came through the front door, holding on tightly to Olive and Alec. Olive had tears streaming down her face, while Alec wore a horrified expression, his eyes pleading for help. A Death Eater handed their leader Olive and Alec’s wands.

It was a frightening scene. The Kaspian’s once homey and welcoming house was filled with a dozen people dressed up in terrifying masks and filled to the brim with dark magic and energy. 

“You are all coming with me,” the leader spoke.

“Please! I beg you! Do whatever you want to me, but leave them alone!” Drys cried out again.

“NO!” Olive yelled, a fresh wave of tears falling.

The Death Eater’s all looked at each other, and Draco sensed that they were all smiling under their masks. “If you insist,” the leader said.

And just like that, a flash of green light filled the room, illuminating the shiny masks and highlighting Alec and Drys’ faces of horror and disbelief. Olive fell to the floor, her lifeless body opening up a void of grief and un-realness.

Neither Drys nor Alec spoke; just stood there with their mouths wide open.

The leader gestured at Drys. “Take him to the dungeons.” He then gestured at Alec. “Kill the boy.”

The mention of Alec woke Drys up once again. “But he isn’t purely Muggle-born!” Drys spoke quickly, hoping to get his point across before they decided to use the killing curse again. “ _I_ was born to Muggles! He was born to- to us, who are wizards.”

The Death Eater’s looked around at each other, contemplating what they should do. “How old is he?”

“He’s seventeen. He would be going into his seventh year at Durmstrang,” Drys said.

The Death Eater’s held a silent conversation once more, and then the leader spoke. “He’ll be attending Hogwarts come September. He’ll wait in the dungeons until that time comes.”

Drys and Alec were taken outside the house after that and then whisked away, the other Death Eaters Apparating away from the house. But, before they all left, some stayed behind to light the place on fire, also using curses to break the windows and other valuables.

Draco stood in the center of it all, watching in disbelief as the house became destroyed, turning into the exact version of the one from his visions.

He was engulfed in darkness once again, and then he was standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, facing the real life Drys. 

Before he even had a chance to speak, Drys started talking. “I would later find out that day, that the leader of the group was your father. I would find out days after the first, that you, Severus Snape, and Augustus Rookwood were the ones to burn my home down. You and your lot took everything from me that day.”

Draco had to close his eyes as the impact of what Drys was saying hit him. He did remember that day, now that he was reminded of it. It had been late June, right after Dumbledore’s death, when all the raids and killings of Muggle-borns and Muggles started. The media hadn’t gotten a hold on what exactly the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord had been doing then. There had been surprise attacks at homes of known Muggle-borns; the Kaspians being a part of one of those first attacks.

Draco had been forced to join in that attack, since his father had led it. He’d been under strict instructions to hang back and watch as the experienced Death Eaters did what had to be done. Snape had been the one to explain everything in detail, and Rookwood had stayed back with the two of them to make sure they weren’t planning on doing anything stupid.

He had never gotten a clear look at who the family had been that day, only having been told they were filthy Muggle-borns. 

After the large group of Death Eaters had Apparated away, Draco had been about to join them, when Rookwood said they had to burn the house down, leaving no evidence behind. It was to look like a simple house fire, killing the residents with no trace of dark magic.

“I had Pureblood neighbors, you see,” Drys said, snapping Draco out of the past. “Two households who lived in close proximity to my family. It would have been so easy to notice what had been going on, and so easy for them to call for help. But you know what they did? They just sat there and watched. They did nothing. Absolutely nothing. I reckon they might have even found the whole thing funny.”

Draco wanted to apologize and do whatever he could to make things right for Drys. But what would apologizing do? It certainly wouldn’t change the past. It wouldn’t have changed what he had participated in and what he had firmly believed in.

But saying sorry was better than saying nothing. “I- I’m so sorry,” Draco said, and he really meant it. “I was a fool for siding with _him._ ”

Drys sneered. “You got that right.”

Draco wanted to say more, whatever more was. But Drys pointed his wand again at Draco saying, “Let’s duel.”

It wasn’t a proper duel. They didn’t start the proper way and do the proper set up, but Draco presumed that was because he couldn’t _actually_ duel.

They both stood a good distance away from each other, and Draco couldn’t help but notice the crowd of Death Eaters as he looked past Drys. He wondered what Drys was doing with them since he obviously hated them all.

His own protective ward went up, and he saw Drys smirk before he casted a spell that immediately bounced off his personal ward. 

It was obvious what Drys’s plans were for the duel: he wanted to tire Draco out so that he would admit defeat, starting with simple spells and working his way up to complex ones that would certainly break Draco’s wards, causing him to use his magic over and over again to keep putting the wards up; draining him.

Drys’s plan was a good one; one that would probably work.

Although, Draco would try his hardest to succeed, given that Harry’s life was on the line along with hundreds of others.

“Aren’t you going to explain to me what your plan is and what it has been all along?” Draco asked, another spell hitting his protective shield.

“I am,” Drys agreed, firing spell after spell. “I’ll start where I left off.

“I admit, I was a fool for believing we would be safe living in our house during the middle of a war, a war where Muggles and Muggle-borns were the ones mainly being targeted, but I’d assumed the Ministry wouldn’t let the destruction of hundreds of lives happen. I thought Olive and I had more time. I thought that we could wait until things got really bad, and then flee the country, or continent even.

“Of course, our family had been one of the first ripped apart. I spent so long in your dungeon-” Draco didn’t miss out on how Drys said _your_ dungeon- “and throughout that time, almost a whole year of torture, I was lost in grief and agony, mourning the one person who made everything okay.

“But after all that time, when the war was over and I was set free, somehow not dead, I realized I needed to _do_ something. The Purebloods were always seen as the mighty and powerful ones, while the Muggle-borns were viewed as weak and soft. I wanted to prove them all wrong. So that’s what I set out to do.”

Draco’s first thought was how similar he and Drys thought of the people they loved. They both loved someone so much, that they knew the difference between a half life and a whole one. 

Draco’s second thought was how awful it was that he’d never even known of someone with the last name Kaspian ever being kept in the Manor’s dungeons. There had been so many people, and Draco had never been good with names and faces. He was sickened to think about how he had forgotten the names of people who his family had held as captives, thinking that they deserved so much better than that.

Drys casted a spell that was much more powerful than the one’s he’d been sending before. Draco’s shield almost faltered.

“During my days at Hogwarts,” Drys said, “I always knew I had a special talent for creating spells, and building off existing ones, making them extremely powerful. I experimented a lot, and would stay up all night just to _create._ Olive was in my House, Ravenclaw, and she found out what I’d been doing, and instead of telling the professors about what I was up to, she helped me.

“We became incredibly close, and we would always be on the lookout for new books and spells and our minds would be racing, trying to figure out how to build off of what was already there.

“During our seventh year, three years after we had become friends, we wanted to leave a mark on the school in some form. A mark that would exist for eternities, and one that only a few would be able to find.”

“The Garden of Mystics,” Draco said absently.

Drys’s mouth tightened. “Yes.

“We created the Garden near the end of the year, working day and night and using spells we had come up with to design a secret room, one that would be filled with light and a mystical atmosphere. On the day that we had finished it, Olive kissed me. We carved our names on the door and set enchantments that would always keep the plants alive and keep the room in an orderly fashion.”

Draco thought that Drys was sharing extremely personal information, but Drys didn’t seem to mind, keeping up his spell casting and talking at the same time.

Draco remembered how weird the Garden was when he’d first walked in; there were no windows that would allow in sunlight, let alone rain or any water source, and yet the plants had all been in perfect condition. He’d guessed someone had had to cast specific spells to keep up the maintenance in the Garden, but he’d also known that the caster had to be an extremely powerful wizard. 

It was almost hard to believe that he was now face to face with that very same powerful, dark, wizard who’d created such a beautiful place like the Garden of Mystics.

Drys went on: “So after I was set free, I knew that I would have a chance to use my gift for the greater good of the people in the Wizarding World, and even the Muggle world. I set out looking for all kinds of books- anything that would help me accomplish my end goal.”

“And what is your end goal?” Draco asked, unable to help himself.

“To rid the world of Purebloods and Death Eaters once and for all,” Drys spat out.

In the back of his mind, he knew it all made complete sense.

“Anyways,” Drys said, “I created a book back in my Hogwarts days that withheld all of the spells and potions Olive and I had made. I left it at Hogwarts all those years ago because it was the past, and Olive and I wanted to start working on a future. But I knew I had to get it back to accomplish what I wanted to accomplish.

“In the last days of school for Alec, I requested that he go and find the book, hidden somewhere in the library. I couldn’t remember exactly where it had been, so I told him to search _everywhere_. He never ended up finding _my_ book, but he did find Severus Snape’s.”

“Of course,” Draco breathed, pieces of the story finally coming together. “You were- _are-_ the one who has Snape’s book! You replaced it with a decoy!”

“That I did.”

Alec made a sound coming from somewhere behind Draco.

Drys rolled his eyes. “Alec was the one to make the fake. But it was my idea.”

Draco really wished he could see Alec’s face right now.

“I had of course heard of Severus Snape during my school days,” Drys said, “and I know he had the same natural fondness for creating spells, but I’d never known he had created a book that held all of the Wizarding World's known secrets! It was certainly better than _my_ book that only contained the spells I had come up with; not nearly as much information included that would help me with my task.

“So, throughout summer, autumn, and winter, I experimented on Snape’s book, figuring out how it worked. It was tricky, and well protected, I’ll tell you that, but nothing that was too tough for me to figure out in the end.”

“You have to reveal a deep, meaningful secret,” Draco declared, “and once you do that, you only get to ask it three questions. Severus Snape told me himself.” He was stating the obvious, but he felt like it must be said. 

“Of course I know that, I figured that part out on my own. But for what I needed to do, three questions wouldn’t suffice. I needed to ask it _more._ When a book can give you any known information in the world, you need it all. Three compared to billions, is nothing. 

“So that’s when I started experimenting on his book, using spells and potions to try and break whatever enchantments that only allowed you to ask three questions. It took lots of trials, but I did it; I broke the enchantment, and all the knowledge in the world was at my fingertips, and all I needed to do was ask it what I wanted to know, and it delivered. Every time.”

It still amazed Draco that Snape, a man he had looked up to and who had protected him, had created his own book, using his own types of enchantments and spells to program it so that it would contain every known spell, potion, piece of information, in the Wizarding World. 

It also amazed Draco that Drys had found a way to break the three question rule; something Snape had meticulously created to stop power hungry wizards from holding a key to all known information, and using it to fulfill whatever plan they had in mind.

Making Draco aware of what he was doing at the moment, Drys sent another spell his way, breaking Draco’s ward. He hastily put it up again, but he knew it wouldn’t last for too long. He already felt his magic and energy depleting bit by bit.

“Wait, you said that Alec created a fake, but the book we found that was apparently ‘the fake’ still worked,” Draco said, realization dawning on him as he spoke. “Well, it partially worked. I was able to send a letter to my father by breaking the wards you put around Hogwarts.”

“I told Alec to replace it with a book that was an exact replica of the first, just in case someone who knew of Snape’s book found it and realized it had been replaced. I taught him the spells that would make it seem like it was the real deal, but the spells or potions held inside wouldn’t actually work.” Drys turned his head slightly to scowl at Alec. “Well, he partially listened to me, because like you said, Draco, the spell you used to break the barrier that I put up worked. But, ultimately, I had nothing to worry about, because you only sent a letter to your dear father.”

Draco gave a small gasp. “Is he here? My father?”

“Sadly, no. I wasn’t able to break out the Death Eater’s currently rotting in Azkaban _yet,_ but I will.”

“That leads me to another question. How were you able to watch what I was doing? How did you know I had sent a letter? You specifically told me in a vision not to send out another letter, but you couldn’t have possibly known.”

“Well, after I had Snape’s book, and created all of the spells I needed with help from his book, I had _almost_ all the key ingredients to what I planned to enact. I was missing a couple small parts, however, and those small parts were located in Hogwarts. I needed two types of blood: the blood of someone prophesied and the blood of the youngest and eldest Death Eater.”

Draco wasn’t exactly sure why, but he was severely taken aback, and in his small moment of weakness, Drys cast a spell his way, sending Draco backward, resulting in him falling on the ground. 

His wand was out of reach, and out of sight, and he quickly felt around on the ground beside him, hoping his wand was somewhere close, and dreading what would happen to him if he didn’t have a protection up and around him soon.

Drys stepped closer towards Draco, his wand pointed at him. “I needed the blood of the Death Eater’s you see, because I needed to control them, I needed them all under _my_ watch and _my_ rule.”

Draco finally turned his head to look at Alec, who was standing over Harry. Harry looked like he wanted to go to sleep, but at the same time he also wanted to listen to what Drys had to say.

Alec went from keeping a watchful eye on Harry, to watching Draco and Drys’s duel.

“That day, after our therapy session,” Draco said to Alec, “you- you were the one to- to-” Draco took a deep breath- “you were the one who cut my Mark.”

Alec was reluctant to answer, but he nodded his head anyway.

“To switch the Mark’s leader to myself,” Drys cut in, “I needed your blood and I needed the blood of Avery snr. Now, you all obey me. You do whatever I tell you to do, and if I die, you all die too.”

“You said I was resisting, though,” Draco commented, “you were talking about my Mark, and how I’m not controlled by you. How is that possible?”

“You were protected by Hogwarts’ wards at first, the one McGonagall had put up. I don’t know how you’re resisting now however, given that the wards are broken.”

It made sense, but it also didn’t. He now knew why his Mark had pulsed and ached and burned for two weeks; because it was calling out to its new master, wanting Draco to accept the pull and give in. His Mark definitely was much worse outside surrounded by Death Eaters and Drys, but he still wasn’t giving in, like giving in was the harder option, not easier. How could that be?

“I needed Harry’s blood because, like I said, he is one of the only known prophesied wizards- which I found out from Snape’s book. I needed his blood to break the wards of Hogwarts to let in all of my new friends, and well, his blood is precious. I’m sure I can use it for many more spells.

”The Death Eaters do whatever I tell them to do, and after I’m finished with you and Potter, we’ll infiltrate Hogwarts and kill all of the Purebloods. So simple. So easy and quick.

“And, well, Draco, you’re going to be under the Mark's power, but fully aware of everything going on around you, and not having any power to stop it. Just like all of the others.

“If you would have taken me up on my offer, I would have let you rule beside me. You would have not had a care in the world about what was going on, and it would be a relief for you to not have to worry about anything ever again.

“But, since you foolishly declined, you’ll suffer greatly. And after I’ve had you watch Potter, your parents, and your one minuscule friend- Miss Parkinson- all die, I’ll give you to the Ministry, telling them it’s all your fault for the slow death of everyone at Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, and the slaughter of the Purebloods in Hogwarts. along with Harry Potter’s death. I’ll let them deal with you, and I’ll be the savior, turning in the evil villain. After that, they’ll have to love me and follow me. They’ll be even more willing to back me up on the death of all of the other Purebloods in the Wizarding World, because they'll see how the world has benefitted from them not being around.

“You know, I was sure at first that what I wanted was for you to accept my offer, and make things easy for me. But now, I’m glad you didn’t, because now I don’t have a bargain on my side I have to maintain. And you will be my cover for everything. My only regret is giving you two weeks to think about the decision you wanted to make.”

Trying to block out all of Drys’s words swarming around inside his head, he continued to feel around on the ground for his wand, and to his amazement, he finally felt the familiar wood, and immediately put back up his shield, just before Drys hit him with a curse. He stood up, casting a quick glance over to Harry to make sure he was still okay, before returning his attention to Drys, who was still explaining everything.

Back to answering Draco’s original question, Drys said, “Your blood that I had procured from Alec, who brought it to me at the edge of the forest the night before I cast the sleeping curse, allowed me to keep an eye on everything you were doing, along with allowing me to bind the Death Eater’s through the Mark under my rule, of course. It was basically my own crystal ball. I could see through your eyes. 

“Alec’s blood made it so that I could surpass McGonagall’s wards myself, but not the Death Eaters. Like I said, I needed Harry’s blood to break the ward as a whole. I didn’t really have a need to actually step inside Hogwarts, though, since I could just see what you were doing through your eyes.

“Your blood, Draco, also allowed me to contact you in your sleep. I had originally planned on telling you my offer on day one, but contacting you proved to be difficult. It hadn’t fully worked until about a week in, unfortunately.” Drys cocked his head to the side. “Maybe if you had had the full two weeks, you’d have made the correct decision. Not that that matters any more.”

“Why two weeks? Why did you have to put everyone under a sleeping curse, and why only Hogwarts and Hogsmeade?”

“Once I cracked the enchantments on Snape’s book, which was around this January, I finally had the spells I needed to complete everything. I had the spell to keep you and Potter locked in, the sleeping curse, and the spell that would ensure my victory; the control of Death Eaters. It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? Having the Death Eaters back me up on the murder of the Purebloods.

“I had to put up a ward around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, to make sure you and Potter wouldn’t try to escape or contact anyone for help. The ward also made sure the Ministry wouldn’t suspect anything odd going on at Hogwarts.

“I had to put Hogwarts and Hogsmeade under a sleeping curse, to try and motivate you, Draco. Hogsmeade is too close to Hogwarts, though, to not notice something was wrong, so they had to be under the sleeping curse too. I knew that you’d want to be the hero so badly, you would certainly take any offer of mine to save hundreds of lives. Sure, I threatened your family, but you needed _more_ motivation, I realized. And like I said, the death of the Purebloods currently in Hogwarts will be much easier with them asleep.

“I couldn’t have anyone in the way of my plan, either. Potter was in Hogwarts, surrounded by people. I can’t touch him. Only people who are permitted in Hogwarts are even allowed to be around Potter, and the spell which would break Hogwarts’ wards, required the blood of someone prophesied, and had to be cut by the hand of a person close to the prophesied one; they had to mean a great, great deal or else the spell wouldn’t work. 

“But on top of that, what friend of Potter’s would want to hurt him? What friend of Potter’s wouldn’t stop trying to find an escape, and contact the Ministry once I had entered their head? I needed someone close to Potter like you, Draco. Someone who would think of their own gain first, and someone who was close to Potter in a way that wasn’t friendship. You were the perfect candidate. And, if you weren’t close enough to him, you would surely be after two weeks.”

Draco stood his ground, trying not to come across absolutely furious at Drys. Drys had put so much thought and work into wanting to control the Death Eaters and and kill the Purebloods, wanting them to feel the despair and hopelessness as they watched the Muggle-borns rise to the top. To Draco, it just seemed easier to grieve Olive, instead of concocting a whole evil plan to take over the world.

Without turning to face Alec, Draco stated, “you couldn't have been awake this whole time, Kaspian. I know you know about Harry’s map, and when we looked at that thing, you were always in bed. Plus, I found a Slytherin tie in the dungeon corridors, what the fuck was that for? You aren’t going to tell me that Theodore Nott is in on all of this too, huh?”

For a minute no one said anything, and the only noise that could be heard was the crackling sounds of curses and spells hitting Draco’s protective shield.

Suddenly, Alec spoke. “Father can wake anyone up at any given time, so he woke me up today. Snape’s book really is quite lovely. There’s so much information; information that can help you achieve anything.

“Once I was awake, Father told me to go and get you, Malfoy, after I got Potter, and that I was to stun you and levitate you to the edge of the forest. But, you heard me coming, and I couldn’t risk you finding out I was there until you confronted my father. I was in the Slytherin quarters though, so I figured I’d throw you off my trail by leaving a green tie.”

“I was casting revealing charms, there's no way you could have avoided that!”

“My son is a smart young man,” Drys said, “I've also taught him most of everything I know, so there’s that, too.”

Harry had always been going on about all the different spells Alec had taught him, like the one with the radio and the one with the photographs. He used to feel jealous of Alec, having spent so much time with Harry, but now he felt anger towards him, knowing that all along Alec had been working on some evil plan with his father.

But was it really evil, when all Drys wanted was the opposite of the Dark Lord’s desires? Was it really evil, if all the Purebloods and Death Eaters who had ruined lives, got a taste of their own medicine?

The only real reason Draco felt like he had to stop Drys at this point was because he had to save Harry from being killed, along with a large number of people. Harry’s friends included, along with Pansy and his own parents. Although, if his father was already taken in by the pull of the Mark, wouldn’t he just die when Drys died too? Would Draco die if Drys died? Even if he was currently, ‘resisting’?

Draco looked back at Alec again. Alec reminded Draco so much of himself, trying to impress his father, thinking he was working for a cause that would benefit the world.

In reality, no matter what you thought was right, if it led to the death of people, it was always wrong. Somehow, the world worked that way, and it took Draco way too long to see it.

“Why not make Alec the one who would be able to procure Harry’s blood?” Draco asked, seeing a weak spot and wanting to pry even farther. “Drys, you said I was the perfect candidate. But why not use your own son instead? Surely, after two weeks trapped with Harry, Alec would have been able to become close to Harry? Do you not trust him?”

Drys sneered. “I don’t trust him enough to not make a mess out of everything. I had one chance to get this done, and if he wasn’t able to become close to Potter, I would have failed. I was not planning on failing.”

“So you trusted me more than your own son?”

“Like I said, you have known Potter since you were eleven. Alec does not have a connection with Potter like you do, Draco.”

“But, _like you also said_ , if that special ‘connection’ I’ve always had with Harry wasn’t strong enough, it would surely be strong enough after spending two weeks with him. That would go for Alec too, right?”

"YOU ARE THE ONE WHO NEEDS TO SUFFER!" Drys shouted, shaking with rage. "You and your father are the ones who've ruined my life. Having Alec complete the job would mean I wouldn't get the chance to see you in complete and utter agony. Even if you weren't aware of it yourself."

Draco took a quick glance at Alec, who was furious but also slightly embarrassed. "But-"

“Enough of this!” Drys shouted, sending a stream of curses after Draco, promptly hitting his shield and making him fall over again.

This time, he knew his wand had rolled far away from him. 

Drys was standing directly over him now, and Draco realized he had lost the duel. He had lost, which meant there was no chance of bargaining their lives now. Harry would die. Draco would be forced to watch him die, along with numerous other innocent lives. He would be condemned to think about how he had failed everyone. 

“You could have had a great life, Draco. Ruling beside me, letting me take the reins of your mind. You would have been admired and loved by all, known as the boy who had cleansed the world from the evil Purebloods.”

“DRACO!” Harry shouted over all of the noise, loud and clear. “DRACO, NO-”

“Silence him, Alec,” Drys said, unbothered by the outburst.

Harry didn’t shout again.

“You know what, Draco? I’ll let you choose,” Drys said, “you can be under my control, but fully aware of everything going on around you, and have no power to stop any of it; having to stand there and watch Harry die while you _feel everything._ I can create a very special spell just for you right this second, that would _force_ you to accept the pull of the Mark.

“Or, you can _choose_ to stop resisting the pull of the Mark, and let all of your worries and emotions wash away; watching Harry die while not having to suffer. Of course, the outcome of these two options will still be the same; I’ll have to turn you over to the Ministry and blame every death on you, but wouldn’t you rather give in for the last day of your life? Wouldn’t you rather not suffer while you watch Harry Potter die?”

It should’ve seemed like the easiest decision in the world to make. 

He wouldn’t have to go through the pain of watching Harry die. Not caring, when he would be turned into the Ministry and most likely die himself. 

But why did it feel like he couldn’t make the decision? 

Drys pointed his wand at Draco one last time. Draco felt himself being whisked away into darkness, like what he’d gone through when he was transported to the scene of Olive’s murder.

Instantly, a thought filled his head: _what could have been._

Harry was okay, not that Draco cared. A couple of Death Eaters were holding him captive, and when they were done with Hogwarts, Harry would be kept in the Manor’s dungeon.

Draco was standing side by side with Drys as they walked into Hogwarts together, the other Death Eaters following them. He was then a witness to all of the Death Eaters and Drys murdering the Pureblood students and teachers. He didn’t feel anything as he watched Pansy die, along with Blaise, Theo, and countless others. 

The rest of Hogwarts was woken up, and although some were upset their friends were found dead, most rejoiced at the idea that they never had to feel lesser at school or anywhere else. It was a new era.

He was then standing next to Drys at the Ministry while the Minister questioned whether or not they had been the ones to kill the Purebloods who’d resided in Hogwarts. Drys put the Minister under the Imperius curse, and they weren’t questioned again. 

With the Minister under Drys’ orders, the rest of the Ministry approved of the death of the rest of the Purebloods. No one ever knew who had been the ones to do the messy killing, but everyone knew to follow and listen to Drys and Draco. Everyone admired them and looked up to them. Everyone loved the new world where Halfbloods and Muggle-borns got to live freely, and not in fear anymore.

The Death Eaters, save for Draco, got their own cruel punishment. They were forced to obey all of Drys’s commands, but were all fully aware of the evil they were committing; killing their own blood. It was a punishment that served them right, Draco thought.

All in all, it was a good life. It was everything he’d ever wanted.

A twisting sensation took over him, and then another thought formed in his head: _what will be._

He watched as a green flash of light filled the air, and then Harry was gone. A sob ripped through Draco, and he felt like his own skin was being torn off of him. Out of everything he’d experienced with the war, he’d never felt so sick and so lost as he had when he watched Harry’s lifeless body fall.

He watched as the Death Eaters and Drys killed all of the Purebloods in Hogwarts, wanting to _do something,_ but couldn’t. He watched as Pansy died, and he felt another round of sobs break through him.

Every person in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, who hadn’t just been killed, stayed asleep under the curse, never to wake up again.

He was then escorted to the Ministry, where Drys explained to the Minister that Draco had been the one to kill the Purebloods who resided in Hogwarts, along with Harry Potter. Drys explained how he, himself, had been the one to catch Draco. The Minister thanked Drys, and threw Draco in a holding cell, awaiting a trial where it would soon be decided that Draco would be sentenced to death.

At this point, Draco knew he was dead. But he also knew what the Wizarding World was like now. Drys had somehow convinced everyone that even though Draco had done a terrible deed; killing so many people, it was better for the world. 

The remaining Purebloods were all scared of death, and the Halfbloods and Muggle-Borns were enjoying living a free life. 

Everyone agreed with Drys that it was time to take a stand against the Purebloods, and Drys didn’t even have to _Imperio_ anyone for people to believe it. 

He witnessed another possibility too; Harry dying, green light making its way through the rain, and Draco stood there watching without a care in the world.

The same scenario happened where the Purebloods in Hogwarts died, and then Draco was taken to the Ministry, Drys pinning everything that happened on Draco. Everything was basically the same, except this time around, Draco didn’t care. He felt light as he’d watched the deaths, and he felt nothing as he was escorted into a holding cell, awaiting a trial that would end in his death.

All in all, Draco preferred the second scenario to the first. He liked the idea of not feeling anything as he spent his last day in the world.

He felt the whirring blackness return again, and then he was back at the edge of the forest with Drys looking down at him.

“How-” Draco caught his breath- “How are you able to do that? Send me into memories and- and different scenarios.”

Drys twirled his wand in his hand. “I’ve told you. I’m an expert at creating and experimenting with spells. Snape’s book was a great help, too.”

It was still hard to breathe, and everything Draco had just seen was too much to take in all at once. He honestly still wasn’t sure what to choose.

He was about to open his mouth and say whatever came to mind first, when his Mark sent a bolt of pain throughout his entire body. He had no choice but to grasp his arm tightly. He now felt it _pulling_ him.

“Make your decision quickly. I have the spell on the tip of my tongue that will make you obey me. However, you can choose to give into the Mark, Draco. Do it already, and everything will be over before you know it,” Drys said.

In all honesty, he didn’t want to die. He was terribly afraid of facing death in either one of the ‘ _what will be’_ scenarios he’d seen. 

He didn’t want to have to choose, but this really was it. Harry would die either way, because of him. There truly was no other option.

Even if he did have his wand, he still couldn’t bring himself to cast anything.

All he had to do now was accept the reality. 

He’d known throughout the past couple years, that he was going to die a tragic death, because that was what accompanied someone who’d done countless unspeakable crimes. But facing death, for real, and knowing others would die because of him, was petrifying. 

He wanted his mother. He wanted to be wrapped up in her warm embrace. He wished he would have written back to her the last time she’d sent a letter.

He wanted to see his father one last time before he left the world. He wanted to tell Lucius how much he loved him, despite everything.

He wanted to thank Pansy for being an amazing friend. She had stuck with him throughout eighth year when no one else would. She deserved a hug and an ‘I love you.’

And then there was Harry.

There were too many things he wanted to say to Harry before they both died. He was the one person he physically could talk to at the moment, but he had a feeling Drys wouldn’t let that happen.

He closed his eyes, envisioning whatever would come to mind first.

Surprisingly, he didn’t see the back of his eyelids, but he did feel the whirring darkness all around him, and Dry’s shouts of surprise and anger. 

The next thing he knew, he saw his mum and dad. His mum was holding him tight inside a room at the Manor. In his gut, he felt the uneasiness of stepping foot inside his house once again, but he also felt happy. It was a real, genuine happiness that he hadn’t felt while hugging his mother, for the longest time.

He then saw his father, who was sitting in a cell in Azkaban. Lucius was so far from the man he once was, but as Draco and Narcissa stood before him, Draco knew that Lucius was satisfied. Draco told his father how much he loved him.

Suddenly he was in the Slytherin common room, and Pansy was running up to him, jumping into his arms and crying, getting her makeup all over Draco’s shirt, not that he cared in the slightest. It was a most incredible feeling.

He was then in the Garden of Mystics with Harry. They were slow dancing again, and there were words floating through the air.

_There's a room where the light won't find you_

_Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down_

_When they do, I'll be right behind you_

_So glad we've almost made it_

_So sad they had to fade it_

_Everybody wants to rule the world_

Draco couldn’t imagine a more perfect day. He was with Harry, and everything was okay. 

Well, not everything, he knew. Nothing could be okay and stay like that forever. But with Harry by his side, the world seemed like not such a scary place after all. And for now, Draco was fine with that.

Everything shifted once more, and he was in a blank room. No one else was around. It was just him.

He walked in deeper, and came across a slightly broken body length mirror. There was one piece that was missing in the top right corner. He stuck out his hand to touch the area that was missing, when he _really_ looked at his reflection. All of his scars were showing, and his overall appearance wasn’t that great.

At first he felt disgusted with himself. He wanted to cover himself up and not let anyone see him the way he was. But he also felt content. Somehow, someway, deep down inside of him, he felt _accepted._

He touched the missing part of the mirror, and everything around him crumpled away.

He was now officially back with Drys, and he felt lighter.

Draco quickly realized that his Mark no longer stung at all.

Drys was casting spell after spell at Draco, and he assumed it was whatever spell Drys had talked about that would make Draco obey him. He even heard the Imperius curse a couple of times. Nothing seemed to be working.

Draco shifted around to look at Harry, making sure nothing had happened to him yet; nothing had, Draco presumed. Harry was currently wide-eyed and exhausted, silently coughing. 

Drys saw where Draco was looking, and stepped a little farther away from Draco, turning his full attention to Harry, wand raised and a face full of vexation.

Subconsciously, Draco reached into his robe pocket, feeling for his wand, but it wasn’t there. What he did feel, though, was the small vial of Bloodroot Potion he still had stashed away, and had yet to return.

Slughorn’s voice drifted through his head saying, _“Now remember class, this potion is very lethal. One splash on your skin and you’ll be obliterated from existence.”_

In a split second decision, Draco knew exactly what he had to do. 

He heard a curse on the tip of Drys’s tongue, and could feel Harry’s fear. Or maybe it was his own.

He jumped up from the ground, and ran directly in front of Harry, just as the killing curse rolled off of Drys’s tongue. 

Draco, uncorked vial of Bloodroot Potion in his hand, threw the contents of the vial onto Drys.

The last thing he heard before meeting darkness, like it was an old friend, was screams, and one simple sentence.

_I can’t imagine my life without you in it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone for reading. I really do hope almost everything was cleared up in this chapter. It was so fun to write, but I was (and am) constantly worried I wasn't explaining everything well enough or that the "end" wasn't going to be as good as everyone expected it to be.
> 
> I do hope though that you all enjoyed this chapter and weren't totally confused while reading, and that it lived up to your expectations <3 And I have to admit, I cried for Draco while writing this, like idk why I make him suffer so much, it breaks my own heart.
> 
> I've re-read and edited this chapter more than five times and I think this is the best its going to get, so I really do hope its an okay chapter
> 
> Second to last update sometime in the near future (definitely not going to take a month to update this time) (hopefully)


	15. Through Hell and Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions and whatnot.

Draco was dead. 

Or, he had to be, since the world was non-existent. 

He currently didn’t know where he was, or how he could form coherent thoughts, but he knew he heard voices, and sometimes he could see certain faces in the darkness. 

He saw the Dark Lord, _Voldemort,_ and he was pretty sure he screamed, and then there were reassuring hands and breaths right by his side. Those breaths were there when he needed them most. Although, he couldn’t even begin to guess who it belonged to.

“Draco, Draco I’m right here. I got you,” said someone. That someone sounded pretty upset, like they were choking on tears.

He heard a couple more voices and noises, lots of shuffling around, and then he felt a cool substance flowing down his throat. 

After a minute or so, Draco knew he was going to become unaware of everything once again, and sometime again everything would repeat itself for the tenth time: swarming thoughts, Voldemort, screaming, comforting voice, noises, cold substance, darkness.

Before he left, someone squeezed his hand tightly.

\---

He was in the Hospital Wing. That was the first thing Draco noticed when he opened his eyes. 

It was clearly night out, and as he sat up a little in bed, he found that he couldn’t sit up all the way due to a million aches on his body. He then noticed there was a man standing in the corner of the room.

He had on Auror robes. He was an _Auror_.

 _Of course,_ Draco thought miserably, _the first thing that happens to me after I wake up in the Hospital Wing is being greeted by bloody Aurors. Probably here to arrest me. Or kill me._

The enormous, sneery Auror looked in Draco’s direction as he heard the little squeaks of the hospital bed, and immediately turned towards the direction of the door, walking out of the room without a word.

He was probably going to get more Aurors, now that Draco was obviously awake. The world was still a bit fuzzy, and it was hard to concentrate on all that had happened, but he did remember the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and the small battle that had ensued there.

All of the details of the battle, though, weren’t bringing themselves to the surface. Clearly, if there were Aurors around, specifically one that had been clearly watching Draco, it meant Draco had done something illegal. 

Had he used a defensive spell on someone? Had he used an Unforgivable? _Did he kill someone?_

The sides of his vision grew blurry, and with that came the shortness of breath, and the shaky, sweaty feeling. He hated Aurors and he hated Azkaban. He’d said to himself he’d never do anything that would lead to him stepping foot in that wretched place again. He wanted to know what had happened, and why he was thrown into a situation that involved fucking Aurors.

Madame Pomfrey had to be around somewhere, Draco knew. Maybe she would explain-

But his attention was already somewhere else as he heard a loud banging, the door to the Hospital Wing crashing open and hitting the wall.

And through the entrance came Pansy, running towards him and sobbing her heart out. 

Once she crossed the short distance to reach him, she flung her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He was at first extremely startled, having thought that Aurors would be barging in any second to take him away, but then he quickly realized that there really had been no Aurors barging in; it was just Pansy.

He rubbed her back carefully, hearing her sobs and feeling wet, gross substances on his neck. He felt her whole body shaking. 

“Okay, Pansy,” he said at last, “if you’d please-”

She immediately brought herself back to a standing position, wiping her face and sniffling. 

“Sorry, it’s just-” Draco winced as he moved his shoulder a tiny bit to the side. “Everything hurts.”

He looked up at her, and she looked down at him; her eyes big and wet. She was staring at him in pure amazement.

“It’s really you! You’re awake!” Pansy exclaimed, her eyes growing wider.

“Yeah.” He attempted to look over her shoulder at the entrance, but she was standing directly in the way of the door. “What happened? Why am I in the Hospital Wing?”

Pansy took a huge breath, opening her mouth to speak, when she was interrupted by the sounds of people coming into the room. She finally stepped aside, and Draco had a clear vision of everyone who had just entered.

There was Madame Pomfrey, hurrying toward him, wand and potion bottle in hand. There were also three Aurors. One of the three was the man who had originally been standing in the room when Draco first woke up. Then there was a woman with black hair and an emotionless expression, and standing next to the woman was a short man with an unkind smile.

Pansy put her hand on Draco’s arm, sensing him tensing up at the sight of the Aurors.

The Auror woman moved closer to her shorter colleague, and Draco got to see who else had entered the room, hidden behind the woman. It was his mother.

She was standing in place, tears falling and her mouth wide open. It was like she was almost afraid to go over to Draco- like he might bite her.

She finally came back to reality, and shook her head a little bit, slowly moving towards him.

Pansy moved out of the way, but Draco wished she hadn’t. Pansy’s presence always somehow made him feel more confident.

Draco was almost just as in shock as Narcissa was, seeing his mother for the first time since Summer. Since he had left for his eighth year at Hogwarts. They never really wrote to each other- well, on the occasion that Narcissa did write, Draco never wrote back. He always knew that was the reason Narcissa stopped sending letters.

In truth, Draco had been scared. However, he’d learned over the past however many days that being scared and accepting it was okay- human even. He didn't know the exact reason why he’d always been scared of his mother since the war, but deep down that feeling had always been there. And it was less that Draco was scared _of_ her, but more that Draco was scared of opening up and talking to her.

It was possibly something relating to the fact that she’d brought him up a Pureblooded prejudiced git, and shaping his life, albeit unknowingly, into becoming a servant to the Dark Lord. He’d realized those things over the summer. Awaiting his trial in Azkaban.

Narcissa was suddenly standing in front of Draco, her face still one of complete and utter shock. 

Draco hoped she wouldn’t hug him, just because of the fact that he knew if she did his whole body would hurt, and Narcissa seemed to read his mind. Instead of going in for a hug, she reached down to brush the hair back out of his eyes. Just like she’d always done when he was little. 

“Draco,” she said, “you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here, Mum,” Draco responded, hearing the sadness in his own voice.

“I- we- we thought you were _dead.”_

_Dead? What had happened? Why would he be dead?_

He hadn’t even noticed Madame Pomfrey fussing over him from the other side of his bed, checking his vitals. She pushed a potion vial to his lips once he and his mother were done with their quick little chat, and he felt it go down his throat; feeling sleepy and less achy already. 

She was still stroking his hair as he fell asleep.

\---

The next time he woke up, the sun was setting and there were a crowd of people in the room. 

Pansy was sitting by the side of his bed, her expression going from gloomy to amazement when she saw that Draco was awake.

His mother was talking to Madame Pomfrey, and the pair of them were surrounded by five Aurors. 

Last time he checked, there had only been three. 

Pansy started rubbing his arm carefully and said in a soft voice, “It’s all going to be okay.” Although, the remorse laced in her words said otherwise.

Hearing Pansy talk, Madame Pomfrey spun around and started to complete his vital check. His mother joined Pansy, looking down at him with worry, but also pride. Somehow she made it work.

Draco still felt stiff, and his body was filled with doses of pain, but he knew he felt ten times better than he had the last couple times he’d been slightly conscious.

“Looking much better, young man,” Pomfrey said, “I’d say you just need some more rest and a couple of healing potions in your system, and you’ll be good to go.”

This time when Draco tried to sit up all the way, he was successful. Pansy was still rubbing his arm and his mother clearly wanted to embrace Draco in some way, but didn’t want to disrupt Pansy at the same time.

An Auror who Draco had never seen before started walking towards Draco, joining Pomfrey on the left side of the bed. Pomfrey gave the man a stern look while Draco calmed his breathing.

“Mr. Malfoy,” the Auror said, “you are under arrest until further notice.”

The Auror went right to the point. 

Pansy leapt up from the chair she was sitting at and was about to start hexing the man, or maybe even start a fight without wands. Narcissa pulled her back, but she was clearly thinking the same thing as Pansy. Madame Pomfrey was the one to start yelling at the Auror, saying things like, “We already talked about this!” and “NO.” The side of her that was all affection and protectiveness for her own students clearly breaking through.

And Draco? Draco was gripping the sheets on the bed and willing himself not to start sobbing. He was trying to repress his memories spent in Azkaban, but it was hardly working.

Everything was hazy, but he now remembered what happened at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He remembered Drys, Alec, and all the Death Eaters. He remembered Harry, and how he had hurt him. Harry had almost died due to _him._ Then there was the duel, and the whirring sensation as he was sent into past memories, and events that were only a mere figment of the future.

In the end, he recollected a majority of that whole situation. 

He knew he had possibly killed Drys.

But, a little part of him was trying to make excuses for what had happened with Drys. 

_The Bloodroot potion wasn’t_ actually _dangerous,_ he would try to tell himself. Or, _when he threw the liquid at Drys, he’d missed him by just a hair. Just a hair._

The noises of the room were all joining together, and Draco considered leaping out of bed in just his hospital robes and running out of Hogwarts.

The door slammed open, which stopped all of the yelling; Draco was grateful. He was suspecting Harry to come bursting in, saving the day. Harry had specifically told him that he wouldn’t let Draco be arrested. The day that they had tested out the Restorative potion on Theo. 

Maybe that was why Draco was being arrested, because in the end Theo had been killed by the potion Draco had brewed. 

But, Harry wasn’t the one to burst into the Hospital Wing. McGonagall was.

Everyone watched in awe as she strode through the room, right up to the Aurors. She began whispering rapidly to them, her eyes dark and her lips firm.

It was at that moment when it hit Draco; people were awake.

McGonagall finished speaking, and she walked up to Draco, looking down at him with a smile. “Welcome back, Draco.”

“Uhh,” Draco said, “thanks.”

The Auror who had said he was arrested came up behind McGonagall. “Mr. Malfoy, I-” he glanced at McGonagall, and she glared at him. “I would like to ask if you would be willing to be subjected to either Veritaserum, or place your memories in a Pensieve.”

Draco was definitely startled at the question. “What for?” he asked. In reality, it wasn’t like he couldn’t remember almost all of the things he’d done over two weeks, but that there were _too many_ things he had done over two weeks that would be acceptable to arrest him for.

The Auror spoke again. “Mr. Potter gave us his memories. However, everything he saw was blurry, and the voices were hard to hear. We did, though, get the part where you killed a man.”

Right. So, Draco _had_ killed somebody. 

_He had killed somebody. Fuck._

“We’re just confused, is all,” McGonagall cut in. “I know there is more to the story. We would just like to see your side before we jump to conclusions.” At the last part, she glared again at the Auror. 

“How much did you see?” Draco asked worriedly. What if Harry had given them all of his memories over the past two weeks? What if they all saw them kiss?

“You were all at the edge of the Forbidden Forest,” McGonagall said, “you had just started dueling with this man… everything was extremely hard to see and hear…”

“Oh. Okay,” Draco said. So they hadn’t seen their kiss, or anything remotely intimate, Draco thought- which was the only good news he’d heard so far.

“When you’re well rested enough, Mr. Malfoy, we would like for you to consider our request.”

“I think I’m feeling well enough to do it now,” Draco responded, which was the truth. What was also the truth, was that he just wanted to get it over with. He didn’t want to have to sleep again and wake up with dread, knowing he’d have to subject his memories to a Pensieve.

“Are you sure?” Pomfrey asked nervously. “I’d rather you sleep for another night-”

“No, I’m fine. Let’s get it over with.”

\---

Draco told the Aurors he would _not_ be subjected to Veritaserum, and would only allow them to access his memories through a Pensieve.

A Pensieve from the Headmistresses office was brought in, and they immediately began the process of taking the strands of memories from his brain into the mesmerizing water.

Draco didn’t get to watch his own memories, only the Aurors and McGonagall did. He sat in his hospital bed as Pansy talked to him about whatever. He wasn’t really listening.

He was too focused on the fact that he might be going to Azkaban. Sure, they would learn all about Drys’ evil plan and how Draco was trying to stop what Drys had been planning, but in the end, just like the Aurors had told him, he had killed someone. He had killed Drys. He was officially a murderer.

He was lucky, though, that they were only accessing his memories starting from the point of Drys and him beginning to duel, and ending with Draco completely blacking out. They said they had no need to watch any of his other memories from the two weeks, to which he sighed thankfully at. They’d be missing plenty of information without accessing his memories from the rest of the two weeks, but Draco wasn’t planning on mentioning that. 

He was just ultimately hoping that they would see he didn’t intentionally plan to kill someone, and un-arrest him. 

Even if the Aurors wouldn’t be able to piece _everything_ together without watching all of his memories throughout the two weeks, he was terrified that they would judge him harshly based on the mistakes he’d made that were voiced aloud by Drys and himself.

He didn’t want them to hear the things that were said related to the Dark Mark. He didn’t want them to see him gripping his arm in pain. The Mark was still and would always be a sensitive subject.

He needed Harry. He wondered why he wasn’t here in place of Pansy- not that he didn’t want Pansy’s company.

He thought about asking Pansy about Harry, but the words never came out of his mouth. 

His hands fumbled with the bed sheets as he waited in anticipation for the group to come out of the Pensieve. 

The gem that usually pressed against his chest wasn’t there, and he hoped someone had taken it to a safe location. He wanted his wand; he wanted to feel the familiar wood, and magic coursing through his fingers. 

After about ten more minutes of impatiently sitting in bed, the Aurors and McGonagall finally lifted their heads in unison. McGonagall had a tight, strained look on her face. The Aurors were simply angry. 

The next couple parts came in fragments: the Aurors saying that Draco was free to go, and that they lifted all possible charges, McGonagall saying comforting words because she wished he’d never had to have gone through that, and lastly, Narcissa turning away from Draco, her body heaving up and down, as the Aurors explained that all of the Death Eaters were dead. His father was dead.

Draco passed out.

\---

He spent the week in the hospital.

Within that week, his mother had sat next to him in a small chair, talking about her plans of whether or not to sell the Manor, talking about different memories of her and Lucius during their Hogwarts days, and reminiscing on different moments from Draco’s childhood.

It seemed like such a long time ago; his mother spontaneously writing to him about the consideration of selling the Manor. 

Well, it had been a long time ago. Precisely four weeks. 

Two weeks spent alone in the castle with Harry, one week when he was out cold in the Hospital Wing after the confrontation with Drys, and at last, the week he’d just recently spent where he was barely even able to move from the bed, due to the sheer bewilderment of everything that had happened during the time of the sleeping curse.

Pansy had visited him every day before and after classes, and she, Narcissa, and Draco would usually play Exploding Snap to pass the time and to forget all of life’s troubles.

His mother was still under house arrest, of course, too. But, given the recent circumstances, they allowed her out of the Manor to see Draco as long as she always had an Auror around to watch her.

About two days after finding out his father had died, Draco was still constantly wondering where Harry was, and why hadn’t he come to visit yet. So, finally, he worked up the courage to casually ask Pansy about Harry. 

Apparently, Harry had visited Draco every night while he was still in a some-what-coma, until one night, the first time the Aurors had visited Hogwarts, they’d flat out barged in to the Hospital Wing, demanding to know exactly what happened. Harry had offered his memories, but they weren’t clear enough, and the Aurors became even more furious. Of course, everyone at that point already knew that Draco and Harry had been the only ones awake during the sleeping curse.

The only parts that were pretty much crystal clear in Harry’s memories was the moment when Drys had cast Avada Kedavra, and Draco had ran in front of Drys, blocking the deadly curse from hitting Harry, and throwing the deadly Bloodroot potion at Drys instead. 

Any sane, unbiased person would acknowledge the part where _Draco had literally jumped in front of the killing curse for Harry,_ and deem him a hero.

Instead, the Aurors had jumped to the conclusion, after seeing the part where Draco had killed Drys, that Draco was to blame for all that they knew had happened during the two weeks (which wasn’t a lot to begin with) and immediately placed Draco under arrest, even though Draco had still been in a fucking coma. 

Of course, Harry had been down right _pissed_ after they’d arrested Draco, since they didn’t even know the full story (Harry didn’t know the full story either, but as Pansy had said, Harry was insistent that Draco hadn’t killed anyone on purpose and was only protecting Harry) and in the end, Harry had punched one of the Aurors in the face. 

That got him kicked out of the Hospital Wing for good. And that’s when, along with Draco being an alleged killer, they placed Aurors outside and inside the Hospital Wing.

He was glad to hear that Harry had stuck up for him, but was also mad at him for getting himself into so much trouble that he wasn’t even able to visit Draco anymore. The git.

He and Harry still had so much to talk about. Especially after the fiasco in the forest.

Draco had some of his own questions, too, that he figured only Harry would be able to help him with. Like the fact that Draco had survived the killing curse. And that he had somehow made his Mark stop hurting, _and_ was able to create visions all on his own. It was a lot to think about.

Speaking of the killing curse- Madame Pomfrey, the Aurors, the Minister, and literally anyone who’d visited Draco, wasn’t able to figure out how Draco had survived it. He was officially the second person in history to have been hit with _Avada Kedavra_ , and lived.

He’d gotten a new scar, too. Where the killing curse had hit him. Right over his heart. A lightning bolt just like Harry’s.

He was excused from his classes while he was in the Hospital Wing, and he didn’t even have to make up the work. Harry had been told the same thing, given the event he had gone through, even though he hadn’t been in the Hospital Wing for more than two days. Although, Pansy said Harry still attended all his classes. Draco had a suspicion that was because Harry wouldn’t have been able to sit around doing nothing until Draco came out of the Hospital Wing.

Harry apparently lost all motion in his right arm for a week, the arm that Draco had cut, and his leg had been broken. Draco added that on to the long list of things to talk about and apologize for whenever the next time he saw Harry was.

It was officially two Sundays from the event with Drys, and Draco was still in the Hospital Wing. Of course, he hadn’t had much of a choice the first week he was in the Wing, as he was in a half-coma and everyone thought he’d end up dying because he’d been struck by Avada Kedavra. 

The next week after he had officially woken up and healed had been an optional stay, but a much needed one at that. Madame Pomfrey was more than happy to have him stay a week or so longer, but she was also quite concerned. Pansy and his mother were, too.

Because his father had died. Because- not that anyone else besides a few Aurors and McGonagall knew- that he had indirectly killed his own father when he killed Drys.

He could barely look his mother in the eye at times. 

He could barely look anyone in the eye anymore, because he was officially a murderer. A cold blooded killer. Someone who he had thought he would never turn into. 

Draco knew he would have to leave the Hospital soon. He knew that if he stayed another week, or even another day, it would turn into a bigger mess, and he would end up never leaving his hospital bed. 

Madame Pomfrey stepped into the room, coming out of her office, and made her way over to Draco, who was currently playing Exploding Snaps for the fiftieth time that week, with Pansy and his mum. 

“Alright, young man. Last time,” Pomfrey said to Draco. 

“Last time,” meant that that was because he’d told Pomfrey he was officially leaving the Wing today, right before dinner was served in the Great Hall. 

And, by Pomfrey saying, “Last time,” she meant the last time she would have to put healing salve and wrap up Draco’s forearm. 

Everyday since Draco had been staying in the Hospital Wing, she’d had to do the same thing to his forearm. Apparently, the Dark Mark was constantly bleeding and burning up; not that Draco could feel it. Well, it stung, but it was nothing compared to the pain the Mark had produced under the rule of the Dark Lord and then Drys.

Pomfrey didn’t have a clue as to why the Mark was acting up, but Draco had a thought. It had been under immense pressure from Drys toying with dark magic he didn’t understand. The Mark being awakened again by any other person other than the Dark Lord must have irritated it, and then, what had made it worse, was when the Mark had tried to pull Draco in to joining Drys’ side, but Draco had refused somehow. 

He avoided death somehow, too, even though he was supposed to die right alongside the other Death Eaters. 

So, that was his prediction. He guessed he’d never find out the truth now that Drys was… but he found it to be a pretty good guess on his part. The Mark’s reaction to all the strain it had been under had led to it bleeding and stinging, most likely fighting off the remnants of Drys’s control.

Draco made a quick glance at Pansy and his mum, and saw that they were already leaving the room. His mum’s personal Auror following right behind. It was something he had asked them to do the first time he had been awake to witness the healing of his Mark that occurred every day before dinner. 

Once they left the room, and it was just Madame Pomfrey and himself, Pomfrey began to unwrap the old bandage wrap, and dab it with some healing salve. Draco never looked at what she did, but he could feel it and guess. 

He had no desire to watch a woman who was so loyal to the light side, so protective of children, have to deal with and clean something made of pure dark magic, a mark that represented the _wrong_ side. Something that tied him and made him a servant to _Voldemort_. He didn’t even want to think of the fact that she had to look at it. 

Finally, when he felt her wrapping the new bandage around his forearm and cast a healing spell on it, he turned his head and looked at Pomfrey who was now gathering her things. 

When she noticed that Draco was looking, she gave him a warm smile. “Keep this bandage wrap on for one more day, and then take it off at precisely six in the afternoon. Everything should be back to normal by then,” she said sweetly. 

“Normal,” Draco repeated. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

He glanced down at the new wrap around his forearm. No blood stain in the outline of the snake and the skull like there had been the previous days, whenever it got close to the time to change the bandage. And, according to Pomfrey, it wouldn’t happen again. It was done bleeding for good.

Pomfrey looked like she wanted to say something else, but opted out of it, grabbing the last of her things and levitating some behind her that would not fit in her arms. 

Before he could stop himself, before Pomfrey could make it back inside her office, Draco said warily; “Madame Pomfrey?”

She turned her head, dropping something from her arms. “Yes, dear?”

Draco took a deep breath. “Thank you. Thank you for doing this for me, and for being so kind. Merlin knows I deserve it after- after everything.” 

He could just make out the tears forming in her eyes. “It’s not a problem, Draco.” She gave another smile. “You were- _are-_ just a kid. Everyone deserves a redemption. Everyone deserves a happy ending. Especially you.”

Draco looked down at his hands. “You don’t know what I’ve done.” She didn’t know he was a murderer. She didn’t know he had killed his own father.

“Maybe not,” she said thoughtfully. “But, how I see it, what truly matters, is how you use that past, and shape it into a better tomorrow-” Draco looked up at that. It sounded like something Harry had said to him- “And might I add, you have a very handsome young man looking out for you.” 

Draco instantly blushed. Pomfrey levitated the item she had dropped and went into her office.

He was studying the bandage wrap, picking at the material, when he heard Pomfrey’s door open again. He looked up, and Pomfrey had poked her head out through the door crack. Bringing one hand to cup her mouth, she spoke softly, “I think he likes you.”

\---

“Are you sure you want to eat in the Great Hall today, Draco?” Pansy asked from beside him. “I’m sure we can find somewhere else to get food.”

“Salazar, Pansy, I didn’t know you cared about me that much,” Draco said with a slight smirk forming.

She punched his arm, and Draco let out a sharp gasp. “Hey!” he said, “I was just hospitalized! Go easy on me!”

Pansy dramatically rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She then gave him the _look_ which meant that he had to answer the original question.

He let out a small sigh. “To be honest, no, I don’t want to eat in the Great Hall. But, doing so will hopefully make things return back to normal in a quick manner.”

“You really believe that, huh. Normal,” she deadpanned. “If you take one glance around, you’ll realize how far from _normal_ everything really is.”

He’d been avoiding making any sort of eye contact with anyone walking Hogwarts’ halls. He was terrified of the looks they’d give him. Terrified of the _new_ sort of looks they’d present. Pansy told him that the whole school knew of the sleeping curse. The whole Wizarding World knew, basically. All the details they knew, though, were that Harry and Draco had been the only ones awake during the crisis, and had somehow woken everyone up. 

Draco had to guess that the students all presumed Harry had done all the saving, and Draco all the evil plotting. 

No one knew all the true details save for a small group of people, but he was expecting some type of article soon about the truth, based on what the Aurors had seen in the Pensieve. Everyone knew that Aurors couldn’t keep their bloody mouths shut. 

Draco couldn’t decide if the world knowing was a bad or good thing. 

He finally lifted his eyes, ever so slightly, and instantly saw all the stares. He dropped his gaze again. He only occasionally looked at Pansy while she chatted away about the sleeping curse and how he was a “hero.”

Draco had already reluctantly told her almost all of the details about the two weeks, and the final battle with Drys. He conveniently left out the part where Drys dying had caused all the Death Eaters to die. The part where he had killed his father. The part where he had avoided death by the Mark. Although, of course she knew about the killing curse hitting him, and him not dying. 

She had to prod at the fact that he and Harry now had matching scars.

Apparently, according to Pansy, she knew she had been under a sleeping curse, but couldn’t do anything about it. It had been like she was a tiny little bug living inside her eyes, able to see and hear certain things, but not able to escape. The analogy creeped Draco out. 

“Okay, okay last chance to turn back,” she said, coming to a halt at the top of the stairs that led down to the Great Hall.

“Pansy, it’s now or never. I really don’t want to, but I sort of have to.”

He looked at the doors that led to the Great Hall, watching as some people stopped to eye him warily, while others walked right into the Hall, not glancing back at the top of the stairs like some of the paranoid creeps. 

Draco sighed again, clenching his stomach, and taking the steps slowly. 

One of the main reasons he wanted to go to the Great Hall was to see Harry. He was extremely nervous to set eyes on him, but he had to talk to him. About the two weeks, about all the things he’d done wrong, about the fight with Drys, _about the two of them._

A part of him was desperately hoping to see him, while another was absolutely dreading it.

Now that the curse was over, what was their relationship with each other?

“Mate, he’ll be fine,” Draco overheard someone whining. “Can we just go in now? I’m bloody starving!”

“Ron! For goodness sake, can’t you see he’s in distress!” exclaimed another voice.

“I just need to make sure he’s okay! I need to find some way to get into the Hospital Wing!” said a _very_ familiar voice, causing Draco to look up from his shoes.

“Harry _no._ You’ll get into serious trouble!”

Harry was right there, in front of the doors leading to the Great Hall. 

Draco hadn’t even realized he’d made it all the way down the stairs, or even the fact that Pansy had stopped rambling from beside him. 

Harry, accompanied by Weasley and Granger, hadn’t so much as batted an eye in their direction. They hadn’t even noticed that he and Pansy were standing pretty close to their little group, listening in on their conversation. 

Butterflies filled his stomach and the warmest feeling imaginable encased Draco as he stared at the back of Harry’s head. He was right there. 

Weasley, who was facing Harry, which meant he was also facing Draco’s direction, started to say something, when he obviously realized they were being overheard and watched.

Weasley’s face contorted into one of astonishment, which caught Harry and Granger’s attention immediately, causing the pair to turn around. 

Harry was looking directly at him, his eyes taking in all of Draco’s body. Draco didn’t feel exposed or vulnerable one bit; he felt alive. Harry’s mouth then opened wide in disbelief, and Draco grinned. 

“Hey, Potter,” Draco said.

“You- you’re-” Harry stuttered slightly.

“I’m here,” Draco finished the sentence for him.

“You’re here.”

The next second was a blur. Harry was crashing into him, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist and pulling him in tight for a hug. His face was buried into Draco’s neck, and it sounded like Harry was mumbling words. 

Draco wasn’t sure what to do. His hands floated awkwardly behind Harry’s back, unsure as to whether he should embrace Harry in front of their friends, and quite possibly people who had stopped to witness the encounter. 

He gave in, in the end, wrapping his own arms around Harry’s waist. In response, Harry hugged him tighter. 

Draco found it hard to imagine how exactly his life got like this. Having someone to really hold on to after such a huge ordeal. After basically conquering death.

He knew he could always count on Pansy, especially this past year. And he _thought_ he could always rely on his mum, and after the past week, he was positive he could. 

But there was something about Harry’s reaction, and his warmth and magic and whole persona, that made Draco really, incredibly… whole. He’d figured out that part over the weeks of the sleeping curse, but there had never been a life or death situation before to challenge that thought. But, the thought was officially challenged.

It was funny how two weeks could make every difference in the world; how you could feel whole within not even fourteen days, when you spent eighteen years feeling empty. 

He inexplicably, without a doubt in his mind, did love Harry Potter. 

He hoped that after facing death, literally right in the face, he could someday be ready to admit that to Harry. He couldn’t bear the thought of actually dying, without saying those three words to him.

Finally separating at last, Draco and Harry both looked at their surrounding onlookers, a red blush tinting their cheeks. 

Weasley and Granger, oddly enough, shared an appearance of content, and what could only be summed up in two words as: _about time._

Pansy was smirking. 

The rest of the school was in complete shock. The area in front of the Great Hall was in disarray; a clash of chatter and stunned silence filling the air.

“So,” Harry spoke at last, in a voice low enough that only Draco could hear. “Should we talk somewhere more… private?” He ran a hand through his hair.

“That would be good,” Draco said sheepishly. 

“I think I know a place we can go.”

If the place Harry suggested turned out to be Hell itself, Draco knew he would gladly follow him there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo turns out there is still another chapter before the epilogue! So yeah, one more chapter where everything is officially tied up which will be pretty long and thennn the epilogue. Just a heads up, it will probably take me a while to write the last chapter. I might post the last real chapter and the epilogue together, but who knows!
> 
> Look out for my next update since it will sort of be the finale!
> 
> Until then, hope you enjoyed this chapter even though there wasn't too much drarry in it <3


	16. Reconfiguring Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forwards, two steps back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I'm back! I apologize for my almost three month hiatus, but I can proudly say that this fic will be completed sometime soon; one more real chapter after this one and then the epilogue. Enjoy!

The walk to the unknown location to which Harry was leading Draco to was unbearably quiet. They both didn’t have a clue as to what to say to each other now that their reunion was over.

They walked side by side, passing multiple students and professors who gave them weird looks. Draco wanted to look down at his shoes, to hide from everyone’s gazes, but he didn’t dare to act on that urge in the presence of Harry.

Through all his weak moments during the Curse, he still had plenty of moments where he felt like he’d owned the castle. Draco had felt better knowing that there was no one else save for Harry Potter to judge him or look at him.

But now that there were people filling the hallways to the brim again, he felt like he wasn’t allowed to look at people. He didn’t want Harry to know that, though. _What was wrong with him?_

So he kept his eyes straight ahead of him, trying his best to ignore all the looks. He wanted to hold Harry’s hand, to intertwine their fingers and cling to him like Harry was his only source of oxygen. Maybe Harry was thinking the same thing. 

Instead, they continued to walk in silence, not touching in the slightest. Out of the corner of Draco’s eye, he could tell Harry repeatedly kept looking at him.

Draco suspected that Harry might be bringing them to the Garden of Mystics, but when they never climbed any stairs, and kept walking forward, twisting through intricate corridors, they came upon the entrance to the kitchen.

Harry stepped up to the portrait of fruit, and tickled the pear; the entrance appearing and both of them walking inside, still not touching each other.

The kitchen was filled with bustling House Elves, running around frantically and carrying trays of food. Their squeaky voices were arguing over one another.

Draco finally found the courage to turn his head to look at Harry. Harry was already looking at him with a smile.

“You know about this place?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve known about it for a while,” Draco responded absently.

Harry had nothing else to say, and instead headed over to a small elf who was ordering others around.

Was Harry mad at him? Harry looked mad. Or was Harry afraid of him? Was Harry afraid that Draco was going to almost kill him again? Was he nervous about being in the presence of a murderer? Did he only bring Draco to the House Elves, away from all of the people in the Great Hall, because he pitied him?

It was probably likely.

“Draco?”

Draco focused back on Harry as he heard his name. “Hm?”

“I got some food--” he gestured to the plates he now held in his hands-- “is this okay?”

The food looked absolutely delicious, and much more appetizing now that he wasn’t sitting in the Hospital Wing. There were two steaming plates of veggies, roast beef, shepherd’s pie, and treacle tart.

“This is great,” Draco said, grabbing his plate from Harry and sitting down at a table in the middle of the kitchen. Harry sat down across from him. 

It was still so awkward, and the worst part was that Draco knew it was his own fault. Harry looked like he was full to bursting with words, but seemed shy to speak up because of Draco being so obviously not in the talkative mood. It was hard to answer _why_ exactly he now felt like he didn’t want to talk, when all he wanted for the past week in the Hospital Wing was to finally see and talk to Harry.

Now that Harry was right in front of him, eyes gleaming and face blushed, Draco was speechless. Honestly, there was just too much to say, and Draco couldn’t possibly know where to start.

“Hi,” Harry said, looking down at his food. 

So that was where one started after surviving death.

“Hello.” Draco fucking hated himself. He was brought up on social etiquette and he couldn’t even stutter out anything more than a simple _hello_ , which he already said in front of the Great Hall.

Harry lifted his head. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

They chewed their food in silence while Harry, oh so typical Harry, kept opening his mouth like he was about to say something, but always ended up closing it last second.

 _I love you, Harry Potter,_ was all that Draco wanted to say. Before one of them entered into a near death experience again.

Working up a bit of courage he had somewhere deep down inside of him, Draco finally said, after finishing chewing his bite of roast beef; “How have your classes been? You know-- since you got back.”

“Oh! They’re good. I mean, as good as classes can get.”

“That’s good.”

Draco couldn’t believe they were making small talk. He couldn’t believe how skilled he was at making conversations awkward, either.

The clanging of all the different kitchen ingredients filled the silence, and the demanding little voices of the elves interrupted any thought that started to form in his head; Draco wondered if he would be allowed to ask them to quiet down… 

“Okay, I can’t do this, Draco,” Harry blurted out, which promptly silenced the elve’s noises in Draco’s ears. “Are you mad at me, or something?”

Draco almost laughed. “ _Me?_ Mad at _you?_ You’re kidding right?”

Harry lifted an eyebrow. “Why would I be kidding. You don’t want to talk to me! What did I do wrong?”

Moving his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, Draco breathed out, “I can assure you, Harry, _you_ did nothing wrong.”

“Draco. If you think you did something wrong-- whatever that something is-- you’re just filling yourself with unnecessary guilt.” Harry took a deep breath. “You were so… happy. Outside the Great Hall. What changed from then to now?”

A lot had changed. Now, even though being alone with Harry was all Draco had thought about in the Hospital Wing, it was just _so real._ Harry was directly across from him, and talking like a normal person seemed impossible. So much had happened. He wasn’t even sure his brain would be able to comprehend everything that had happened, let alone speak it out loud to Harry.

“What happened after everything went black?” Draco let out, almost against his own will. “I mean, what happened when I passed out, or almost died, that is.”

Harry was surprised at the subject change, but seemed ultimately glad that Draco had asked something that could lead to an actual conversation. 

Draco was nervous to hear Harry’s answer, but knew that it was something he needed to have knowledge of. No one had told him, or had been able to tell him, exactly all the details about what went down after Draco had killed Drys.

“Well,” Harry said, positively uneasy to be retelling the story, but also not the type of person to back down. “You, uh, fell on top of me. Your body was limp, and your heartbeat stopped. It was… terrifying. Before you interfered, I could tell that Drys had had the killing curse on the tip of his tongue, and I was ready to meet my end. But, you just showed up out of nowhere, right as the curse left his lips. I saw Drys being splashed by some liquid, and then you fell on me, green light filling up every inch of the forest.”

As if remembering some piece of vital information, Harry gave a little gasp, his eyes widening as he stared at Draco. “You do realize you survived the killing curse, right?”

Draco grimaced. “I am aware.”

“And how is that…”

“Possible? Pfft. I have no idea. I was going to ask you that. One out of the millions of questions I have.”

“We’ll get back to that important piece of information. Anyways, my first thought was _I’m not dead._ Which, truthfully, was a huge shock, given that I’d been hit by the killing curse twice and had died by it once; which I can elaborate on another time. Then you were just… gone. You weren’t responsive, and it wasn’t even like the people under the Sleeping Curse. No breaths, no heartbeat, no reassuring movement of your chest lifting up and down. Just gone.”

Draco ached to take Harry’s hand at the moment. It was mere inches away from his, and he thought it would make Harry feel better to have someone to hold on to as he described what happened. It would certainly make Draco feel better; having to hear about his own death.

He didn’t act on that instinct. Harry continued on, “After that, everything was fuzzy, like more than normal fuzzy. I just remember looking past your shoulder to look at Drys, who was lying on the ground, every part of his body mirroring yours; no movement whatsoever. I couldn’t see the Death Eaters in the woods anymore. And then I looked for Alec, who wasn’t there, either. It was just rain, woods, and your weight resting against my chest.

“After scanning the woods, my first instinct was to obviously get back to the castle, which was _extremely_ challenging, since my leg was broken and my arm had lost practically all function. _Plus_ , I didn’t have my wand. Alec took it.”

“Please don’t tell me that you carried me up to the castle, or something,” Draco added in.

Harry’s face instantly reddened. Never a good sign. “Well, you’ll be displeased to know that I did, in fact, carry you up to the castle.”

Draco groaned. The thought of Harry, barely able to walk, let alone carry another person’s weight, hike up to Hogwarts in the middle of a harsh rain storm was absolutely dreadful. Especially after witnessing Drys’ death, and what Harry surely thought was Draco’s death.

“Harry, I can’t believe you.” Draco shook his head in disbelief. “You did all of that… for me.”

“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Draco groaned and let his head fall into his hands, his fingers clutching at his hair. He did not deserve Harry and his almost poetic-like words.

Harry went on once Draco kept on hiding his face in his hands. “So, we made it to Hogwarts after a long walk that probably lasted a good couple hours or so, and when I made it to the front entrance, McGonagall and a million students and professors swarmed around us, immediately taking us both to the Hospital Wing. At that point I wasn’t really even surprised to see that everyone was awake.”

“So, you really thought I was dead?”

“Yes and no. My mind kept telling me that there was _no way_ you would have survived the killing curse, but the rest of my body kept screaming to me the opposite. Honestly, thinking at all was incredibly hard. My sole, almost incoherent, thought was to get to Hogwarts, so that's what I did.”

Draco raked his brain, trying to remember if he _had_ died, and then somehow miraculously came back. He couldn’t remember a damn thing.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, his attitude perking up. 

Draco reluctantly dropped his hands so that his face was visible once more, and fiddled with them in his lap. “What?”

“I have something for you.” Harry started to pat down his robes, as if he were looking for something, and Draco tried his hardest not to stare so blatantly. 

After searching all his pockets, Harry had collected a handful of things, and set them down carefully on top of the table in front of them both.

The first object that was set down was Draco’s wand, which he snatched right away, twisting the familiar wood in his fingers. He’d already lost one wand, so he was glad that his newest one hadn’t become lost or broken.

Pushing his wand into his robe, Draco reached for the next object; the photograph he had kept with him from the night of their first, and only, kiss. The Muggle photograph of the two of them in the snow, a candid moment forever frozen in time.

He was too afraid to meet Harry’s eyes at the moment, so he picked up the second to last item. It was the necklace with the red gem attached. Draco’s hand instinctively flew to his throat, where he’d just always thought it would be. But now that the necklace was in his palm, the weightlessness he’d just noticed around his throat felt bare and cold.

Still not meeting Harry’s eyes quite yet, and trying to quell the bubbles in his stomach, he set the necklace at the edge of the table, and picked up the last item. An Anemonlea flower was frozen in some type of preservation spell; trapped in a glassy crystal ball. Draco took a wild guess, and theorized that it was the same flower Harry had stuck in his hair the night of their kiss. Draco had left it back at the pavilion after their fight the next morning.

_Harry had brought him his things? He’d remembered to return them? Had he been keeping them on him until he would be able to see Draco again?_

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He was most likely waiting for Draco to say something. 

“Thank you,” Draco said finally; sincerely. “Really, thank you, for returning these to me and keeping them safe. And… you know… thanks for saving my life. Out in the forest.”

“It’s no problem. And, you did save my life too, so thank _you_.”

He wanted to blurt out that, no, he really hadn’t saved Harry’s life; he’d almost taken it away. But Draco _really_ didn’t feel like arguing with Harry. He figured they’d argue later once they discussed everything that had been filling up Draco’s head for the past however many days.

Draco cleared his throat. “Right.”

“Right.”

Before they traveled back into unbearable silence once more, Draco pocketed all of his items, placing back on the charm that was used to make the glassy, flower-entraping-crystal-ball a smaller size. He then asked Harry all the details regarding what happened to Alec, and all the dead Death Eaters, along with Drys.

Apparently, Alec had fled the scene sometime after Harry had already started to carry Draco up to the castle. Authorities hadn’t been able to find Alec until around the week Draco had been conscious in the Hospital Wing, playing games and chatting with Pansy and his mum. 

To Harry’s knowledge, Alec was currently in a holding cell in Azkaban, awaiting trial. He hadn’t allowed anyone to use Veritaserum or a Pensieve on him, and without consent, they would never be able to. The Aurors were purely trusting Draco’s memories to provide them with information on the showdown with Drys, and to what Harry had told him, Draco’s memories were holding a pretty good case against Alec.

Drys had been completely disintegrated due to the contents of the potion Draco had soaked him with, so that was the end of that with the Aurors. All of the Death Eaters’ bodies were taken care of. 

His dad’s body was somewhere amongst those wretched sods. 

Lucius was there in the first place because Draco had killed his own dad, and Draco would have been right alongside him were it not for the fact that he (somehow) was able to resist whatever curse Drys had been trying to put him under to control him; make him a part of Drys’ little Death Eater crew.

“You look confused.”

Draco took a long look at Harry and let out a humorless laugh. “I’m not exactly confused… it’s just a lot to process. You’re the first to mention all of this stuff, too. No one told me anything regarding Alec or Drys in the Hospital Wing. And Pansy had to catch me up on basically every other aspect earlier today.”

“Adults suck,” Harry mentioned solemnly. 

“And I feel awful for Alec. I know I probably shouldn’t, but I do.”

“That’s perfectly human.”

“And Alec hates me right now, I’m sure. He probably wants me dead.” _Merlin knows I deserve it._

Harry just nodded his head in an extremely sad, empathetic way.

“What about you, Harry. What do you think about the whole Alec situation?” Draco asked, needing to know Harry’s thoughts on his once-friend. 

His face visibly tightened. “Betrayed. Utterly, fucking, betrayed. Though I did have a lot of time to grieve the past weeks while you were in the hospital.”

“Do you miss him?” Draco inquired.

“Sadly, yeah. Sort of,” Harry said, taking a quick break to shove food into his mouth. “As I’ve mentioned before, this summer was hard for me, and he was a great friend to me over the summer and during this year at Hogwarts. Well--” he snorted-- “he was pretty toxic. As you might’ve seen. Quite a bully; reminded me of someone I used to know…”

“Ha ha.”

“...but while Hermione and Ron had each other, I didn’t have anyone, other than Alec. He taught me so many brilliant spells, although now I know where and who he learned those spells from, and he kept my mind occupied: I do miss him, but it’s alright.”

“It’s alright?”

“I’ve made a new friend, haven’t I?” Harry answered, quite genuinely. His eyes sparkling and a small smile forming. 

Draco knew he was blushing fiercely. Even after everything, Harry still wanted to be his friend. It was even more great to hear him say the words aloud, so that Draco knew he hadn’t just dreamt it. 

What was also surprising was that they were talking; like actually having a real-people-conversation without the extreme awkwardness. It was good. Really fucking good.

“So, did you get your wand back? You know, after Alec took it?” Draco implored while stacking food on his fork.

“I did, in fact. My wand was on Alec, and the Aurors gave it back to me when they captured him. Why do you ask?”

“It just popped up in my mind. You gave me back my wand, so I was just curious.” Draco waved his free hand around while he spoke. “Which reminds me, did you get your map back, too?”

Harry’s face softened. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for asking about it.”

“Oh. It’s nothing, really. I just knew that your special, stalkerish map was important to you, and the last time I saw it was…” _the morning after our first kiss, the day of Drys’s attack, and the day of their huge fight under the pavilion._ All in all, an eventful day.

Harry seemed not too keen on talking about that morning either, so he just responded with a _yeah,_ and the two of them lapsed into a newly found comfortable silence while they finished eating their dinner. 

Draco still had many questions to ask Harry, and he was positive Harry felt the same way regarding Draco, but it was nice for a change to forget about life’s problems and enjoy a meal together. Which was extremely weird to think about, considering that before the Curse started, he and Harry had rarely ever even acknowledged each other’s existence. 

Draco had spent many days in the Great Hall staring at the Gryffindor table, watching Harry be there, but not _really_ be there, whilst talking and listening to his friends, including Alec. 

Now, looking at Harry, who was miraculously sitting across the table from him and acting like it was no big deal, was simply stunning to him. What was more stunning, was that Harry looked content, and not lost; not like he was in his own little world while blocking out the real one. Draco was shocked to admit to himself that he was doing the same thing. 

Throughout the rest of their meal, they talked to each other as if they had been friends for years, and it made Draco feel like he was floating. 

A nagging thought filled the back of his head, though. Something he wished would just _go away._ Variations of the phrase, _Harry shouldn’t be talking to a person like me, let alone be seen with me._ And it hurt terribly. Luckily, he kept it at bay, and they had lovely conversations. Draco knew the thought would haunt him later. But for now, he wasn’t going to dwell on it.

Their plates cleared and the atmosphere turned to a unique sense of relaxation: a feeling only acquired after you shared a brilliant meal that stuffed you full, with a more than brilliant person.

There were no windows in the kitchen, but Draco guessed stars were starting to shine through the sky as it turned dark. He hoped he and Harry would be able to share another moment under the stars together sometime.

They would have to leave soon, Draco knew, and he didn’t know when the next time they saw each other--alone--would be. And before he and Harry parted ways, Draco had to explain what had happened in the woods with Drys. Especially the part where he had been hit with the Killing Curse.

“Harry…” Draco started, unsure how to start the conversation that had been nagging him during his stay in the Hospital Wing.

“Yeah? Everything okay?” Harry asked, looking up from his wand, which had been twirling in his hand.

Merlin, he was adorable.

“I just needed to tell you some things, about what exactly went down with Drys, and what he had said.” _So, you know, simple stuff._

“Oh,” Harry stated, blinking in surprise at Draco. “You don’t have to, you know. You don’t have to tell me anything. I know it must be hard…”

“No. It’s okay. I want you to know the full story.”

So he started from the moment he and Harry parted ways on that eventful Sunday morning.

He told Harry about his adventure through the castle dungeons while searching for him, and how he had heard a noise that belonged to a person, which they now knew was Alec, and found a Slytherin tie on the ground.

“I had thought the tie belonged to Theo, you see. I thought Theo was a part of the Figure’s plan somehow, and I thought he had possibly done something to hurt you. But, it was Alec all along. After he took you out and brought you to Drys, he was going to do the same to me. But, I heard him under whatever fancy untraceable Disillusionment Charms he placed, and I wanted to find out who was making the noises. 

“He didn’t want to be seen while trying to capture me: for whatever reason, I don’t know, but when I was on his trail, he left the Slytherin tie for me to find and keep me off of his tracks; for me to think it was a Slytherin who was awake. I guess he thought his cover was blown since he had made noises and I’d obviously known that I was not alone anymore. Then, I'm guessing he hid in Slughorn’s office, which was the last place I heard a noise and searched for him before I bolted off to go and search for you, Harry.

“On my way to continue my search for you, Drys sent me a vision and told me to meet you at the edge of the forest.”

Harry was as intent as ever as he listened to Draco.

Draco described his run to the Forbidden Forest and his worries that the Figure had hurt Harry when he saw Harry’s still figure lying on the ground. The awe as the Figure’s true persona was revealed, as well as Drys’ son as his accomplice. The terror that gripped him as he was forced to make a choice.

“Drys gave me two options. I’d sort of known about these options ever since he talked to me through the vision, but not really. The first option he gave me was that I was to willingly cut your skin--to procure your blood. The second option was that I refuse to cut you and my family dies, the school stays asleep forever, and I would be directly blamed for these things.”

“I know it’s weird to say this now,” Harry cut in for the first time since Draco started talking. “But I’m glad you didn’t choose the first option. It’s terribly selfish for me to say that, but I felt relieved at that moment. I thought that since you refused, my blood would be kept out of Drys’ plan. He clearly couldn’t use the blade on me himself, and I truly thought I was safe when you refused. Even though it was hard to make sense of everything at that time, your decision then was what stuck with me.” Harry sheepishly smiled at Draco. “So, thank you for that.”

Draco’s heart nearly burst. “He used _Imperius_ on me anyways, though. I nearly risked so many people’s lives because I refused. It was selfish of _me_.” The urge to argue against what Harry said was incredibly hard to ignore. 

“Don’t make me take back that thank you.”

Draco moved his gaze to his lap for a couple of seconds, trying to ignore Harry’s piercing eyes. “Alright.”

Draco continued, “I reckon he wanted me to feel like the hero. Like risking your health was something that had to be done to save hundreds of others. But in reality, I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had. Which sounds stupid… but it’s true. And, like you said, I thought if I refused there would be some other way I could prevail. There’s one thing I learned from you hero-type people, and that is there’s always another way.”

He told Harry how Harry’s blood had allowed Hogwarts’ protective shield to fall, which let Drys’ Death Eaters come to his side. Draco looked away and ran his palms across his thighs as he explained how whatever spell Drys had used to control the Death Eaters had been trying to reign him in, too. How his Mark had burned so horribly; and how somehow Draco had ‘resisted’ the pull. 

The duel Draco thought of to stall Drys from killing Harry, because Drys had Harry’s blood and no use for him anymore.

The swirling, sickening sensation as he’d transported into the moment that changed Drys forever.

Olive dead. Alec and Drys traumatized. Draco, a Death Eater who had attended that raid, and in the end, had burned down the Kaspian’s home. 

“You know how I was in the Hospital Wing before the Curse started?” Draco prompted, proud of himself for being brave enough to talk about this.

“Yeah, I remember. Hermione was the one who brought you in.”

“I ended up there because Alec and his gang had hurt me pretty badly; they threw jinxes and shit at me. After the group of them left, though, Alec… he, um, slashed my left forearm. I now know it was because he needed my own blood to control all the Death Eaters. It also allowed Drys to check in on us through my eyes...”

Harry’s face flashed between pure rage and disbelief. “Bastard. Absolute fucking bastard. The whole lot of them. You’ll tell me who else attacked you, right?”

“Mhm.” No, he wouldn’t. 

Back to his story.

Drys, hell bent on taking revenge for the death of his wife. Forcing the Death Eaters, who he ever so despised, to do his bidding; forced to understand everything that was going on, and yet powerless to act on their own will.

Drys, his values and plans, the exact opposite of the Dark Lord’s, and yet so similar. Wanting to rid the world of Purebloods forever, starting with the death of the ones inside Hogwarts; the Death Eaters, who were mostly Pureblood, getting to watch their own kind die by their own hands.

Wanting Draco to _willingly_ join his side. To accept the pull of the Mark and rule beside him as the Purebloods were no more. Drys, who thought so strongly that the Ministry and Wizarding World would back him up on his evil plan; who would see the good in the death of Purebloods once the ones in Hogwarts were dead. 

The sad part was, as he told this exactly to Harry, the Wizarding World would probably let it happen, once Drys had ignited the flame. 

“And, you see, Drys could only accomplish all of these things because of Snape’s book, Snape’s _real book._ We had a fake, placed by Alec. Though, in an attempt to make the fake as similar to the real one, some of the spells worked. That’s how I got the letter past the barriers and to my father.”

Harry shook his head in exasperation. “It was always slightly suspicious how Alec could do all of these amazing spells, spells I’d never heard a whisper of. I never thought twice about where his father had learned them.”

“Yes, well.” Draco cleared his throat, slightly parched from all the talking. He brought a glass of water to his lips and downed it whole. “Drys was already talented with creating and experimenting with spells all on his own, before he got his greedy hands on Snape’s marvelous book. I bet the book that holds all of Drys’ personal information on how he created the Garden of Mystics and all his own spells is still in the castle at this very moment…”

Once it was certainly clear Draco had lost the duel, and he was lying on his back, at Drys’ mercy, Drys had given him one last option. It was clear that Drys loved to toy with Draco, make him choose between two impossible options, however one option always being the kind that “hero's” would choose. 

Harry would die. That was for sure. But Draco could either watch Harry die while being immune to pain, because he had accepted the pull of the Mark and was completely under Drys’ thrall, or he would be _forced_ to accept the Pull, and have to watch Harry die while feeling every ounce of pain.

He was thrown into multiple visions, playing out different scenarios based on his decisions. The one that obviously seemed the best was the one where Draco accepted the Pull. Accepted to turn to Drys and not have to feel the pain as Harry died, and as the Purebloods in Hogwarts died. At the end of every scenario, though, he would die.

“I-- I didn’t want to die,” Draco admitted. “I was so scared. Scared for my own life, scared for your life, scared for everyone else's…”

But before he could make his decision, a new scenario formed, transporting Draco. A vision that Drys definitely had not created. 

It was Draco’s own power this time. 

He was hugging his mother, and father, and Pansy. He told them that he loved them. He was happy.

He was dancing in the Garden with Harry. Although, Draco left that part out when relaying it back to the real Harry, who was still sitting intently in front of him, his eyes glossy.

After one more shift, he was in a blank room, save for a body length mirror. A piece was missing. He reached out to touch the missing piece. He took a good look at himself, his scars on full display, and his hatred for himself was there, but not that prominent.

What was prominent was his happiness. Somehow, some way, he was happy.

He did not tell that last part to Harry, either. It was personal, and he’d figure out what it meant at another time, by himself. 

“But after I came out of my own vision, everything in the real world felt clearer. My… my Mark, it didn’t burn anymore, and whatever spell Drys had been casting on me to Pull me in, probably a variation of the Imperius, it didn’t work. And after he realized whatever he was casting wasn’t doing shit to me, he cast the Killing Curse on you.”

“But you saved me,” Harry stated loud and clear. “You fucking jumped in front of the fucking Killing Curse, and risked your own life for _me_. And you survived it. How…”

Draco tried to form a coherent sentence. His throat was clogged and the world felt dizzy. “I killed him, Harry. I killed Drys. I even killed my own father.”

“You had no other choice. Seriously. And you had no control over your father’s death.”

Draco pressed on. “But you know what I think, Drys made it so that if he died, the Death Eater’s would die alongside him on purpose. It was definitely something he could have avoided if he wanted to. He knew that if he couldn’t succeed in bringing down the Purebloods, he could at least rid the world of all the Death Eaters. That included me. Take care of one evil beyond the grave.”

And, now that Draco thought about it, Drys’ whole plan really did revolve around Draco. He wanted to make the Malfoy’s suffer for what they had done to Drys’ family. He wanted to make sure that no matter the outcome, at least someone in the Malfoy family would lose. He’d strategically planned it out, that whatever reality took course, he’d at least partially get his way, one way or another.

Draco had fallen right into Drys’ trap… 

Harry leaned forward on his elbows. “But Draco, you’re alive. And you saved _so_ many lives, not just mine. You’re a bloody hero-”

“I don’t want to hear that word. I’m not a hero.”

Harry’s face fell drastically. “What are you talking about?”

The kitchen was spinning so fast. The lights were blaring. “I-”

“Draco.” Harry’s voice cut through it all. 

Harry’s fingers touched his chin, grabbing softly and motioning for Draco’s head to look down.

The kitchen started to clear, softly and slowly, but the kitchen wasn’t his focus. 

Harry was practically lying across the table to reach Draco, and his eyes were mere inches from his own, concern written all across them. His lips sending out soft breaths across his own. Harry’s cheeks a bright pink, probably mirroring his own.

It had to be a dream. No way, in no reality, would Harry be willing to bring his face so incredibly close to Draco's, not after Draco turned into a murderer. 

But after a couple times blinking, his doubt disappeared, and reality set in. 

Harry’s face _was_ really that close to his. His expression displayed _want._ Draco almost forgot to breathe.

“Draco-” Harry whispered softly as he leaned in closer. His eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes slowly.

Draco started to close his own eyes as his heart started to beat in an inhuman rhythm. Salazar, Harry’s breath on his lips did something to his insides. He needed to fill the minuscule gap between them _now,_ or else he would combust. Harry’s top lip brushed across Draco’s, warm and somehow familiar, smelling of peppermint. It was the best feeling in the universe. Draco readied himself to close the gap with his own lips…

“Draco!” Squealed an annoying female voice. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

The two of them ripped apart from one another at light speed. Luckily, they had not gone far with what they had planned on doing. Although, the damage was certainly done. There was no way Pansy had missed seeing their close proximity.

Harry’s eyes were blown from shock at the disruption. He was sitting back in his chair that had just threatened to tip over. Draco suppressed a laugh.

Pansy was standing in the doorway, with her hands on her hips and a quirk to her mouth. She was trying to come off as bored, mixed with irritation, but her amusement was certainly not covered. 

“McGonagall told me to come and find you. She wants to see you in her office as soon as possible,” Pansy said.

Draco cleared his throat. “Right. Thanks.” He snuck a short glance towards Harry, whose cheeks were aflame. “How’d you know to come down here?”

“That’s the part where I’m angry with you. I had to ask _Weasley and Granger_ where the two of you might’ve gone off to.” Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Draco shot up from his chair and grabbed his belongings. Harry was looking at Pansy with anger and looking at Draco with longing. 

He hitched up his bag onto his shoulder and stared at Harry for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say. “Well, uh, bye,” he said at last. Embarrassing.

“See you later?” Harry asked.

Draco didn’t respond. He followed quickly behind Pansy and left the kitchen.

\---

“Soooooo,” Pansy said with a mischievous smile.

“So, nothing. Drop it.” 

“Are you and Potter-”

“No! We’re not-- we’re not anything, Pansy.”

“Oh cut the crap!” Pansy exclaimed, grabbing his shoulder and squeezing it. “Tell me everything.”

Draco dramatically rolled his eyes, making sure Pansy would see. “There is nothing to tell. Nothing.”

“Stop lying to your best friend.”

Draco wished their walk to McGonagall’s office would hurry the fuck up. He could feel the students’ curious glances as they passed. And, of course, he didn’t want to talk to Pansy about Harry. At the moment, he didn’t even want to _think_ about Harry. His heart burned every time he thought about how much he wanted Harry, but no matter what Harry could say to him, Draco knew deep inside that Harry shouldn’t be affiliated in any way with a Death Eater, and a murderer. 

The two of them just weren’t meant to be. 

There were times during the Curse when he thought he had a chance with Harry. It was easy to believe anything during that time, though. The Curse had thoroughly fucked with his brain, that was all.

“Pansy,” Draco sighed. “In all honesty, I just don’t really want to talk about Harry.”

Pansy gave him a solemn look, but luckily didn’t press. She only said; “Okay. But please come to me if you ever want to talk. About anything. Including _Harry_.”

“Yeah, okay.”

McGonagall’s office appeared after a bit, and Draco told Pansy that he would meet her down in the common room after.

Draco paused before knocking on the door to the Headmistress’s office. This was the third time he had been in this room this past year. Of course, the first two times, he had been alone. Now, there was McGonagall, and he didn’t want to see Dumbledore or Snape again either. 

After about two minutes of collecting his breath and telling himself that he would be just fine, he knocked.

“Come in,” came McGonagall’s voice.

He walked in, and his mother was surprisingly there, standing next to McGonagall.

She rushed over to hug him and although he was grateful, he was a bit confused. 

“Mother,” Draco said as she let go. “What are you still doing here?”

“Just talking to the Headmistress,” his mother said with a smile. “Plus, I wanted to see you again before I left.” She turned to face McGonagall. “Is it alright if I wait outside by the gargoyle for you two to finish?”

“Why certainly, Mrs. Malfoy. You can stay for as long as you like,” McGonagall said politely as she sat down in her chair. Draco followed suit, and carefully lowered himself into the seat opposite McGonagall. 

Draco heard the door behind them close.

“How are you, Mr. Malfoy?” McGonagall asked. Even though Draco was terrified of her, she was without a doubt one of the nicest people in the world, especially to him; especially after the war.

“I’m doing okay, Headmistress.”

“And how has your health been?”

Draco gave a little shrug that he hoped she didn’t pick up on. “It’s all fine. Nothing really to heal, though.”

“I’d say otherwise.”

Draco was taken aback. Apparently she knew more about himself than he did. “What do you mean?”

“After all you went through. Surely, you are hurting.” Her eyes were filled with understanding. “I’d be concerned if your mental health wasn’t even a tiny bit affected by everything.”

Dumbledore and Snape were staring at him. He tried to ignore them, but it was incredibly hard. Dumbledore wore that God awful smile that secretly comforted Draco. Snape, well, he looked down at Draco like he was an old friend.

McGonagall picked up on what he was looking at and shook her head. “Stop bothering him, you two,” she said to the portraits. “If you can’t _not_ be distracting, then leave.”

After a little confrontation between McGonagall and Snape, the two figures in the portraits left.

Draco let out a breath of relief.

“Now,” McGonagall stated, straightening her robes. “Where were we?”

Trying his best to straighten his posture, Draco said, “Look, Headmistress. I’m really fine. Sure, a little shaken up. But fine.” Draco didn’t want to lie to her. But, the alternative of actually relaying his feelings to one of the most respected and powerful witches, who fought on the side of the Order, was petrifying.

McGonagall eyed Draco, her lips in a firm, contemplative line. Her hands were intertwined together, laying on a blank space of desk in front of her. “I see,” was all she said.

Draco nodded his head, for lack of anything else to say or do.

After a moment, McGonagall let out a sigh. “Mr. Malfoy, as much as you might try to hide it, I can tell you are in pain. If you do not feel comfortable talking with me, which I completely understand, would you be open to the idea of private counseling sessions with Elizabeth? You wouldn’t have to attend the group sessions anymore, of course.”

Draco hadn’t even given a second thought about the therapy groups. He’d completely forgotten they existed. The offer McGonagall had given him was a great one, honestly. No more withering glares from his classmates anymore. And, possibly, just _maybe,_ talking to Elizabeth one on one might benefit him.

“That sounds okay,” Draco said. “I’ll give it a go.”

McGonagall’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t blame her reaction. He wasn’t well known for agreeing or opening up on any terms.

“Well then, I’ll talk to her as soon as possible,” the Headmistress said. “I will send my owl with more information regarding sessions at a later time. Hopefully in the next couple days.”

“Thank you.”

“And while we’re here, I would like to discuss with you some good news.”

Draco lifted his eyebrows at that. “Good news?”

“Yes. After everything that had happened with you and Mr. Potter, the Ministry and I have discussed some terms of your probation that need to be readjusted.”

Of course it had to deal with his fucking _probation_. Possibly the last thing he wanted to talk about with McGonagall. And, honestly, he couldn’t care less about the special terms and conditions. 

McGonagall continued. “You have shown great strength over the past weeks, Draco. And you handled your situation, as far as I can tell from what I and the Ministry saw, extremely well and maturely--” Draco started to blush-- “and you will be pleased to hear that you do not need an escort to enter into Hogsmeade anymore.” Draco was about to open his mouth when McGonagall cut him off. “Furthermore, you will now be able to cast defensive spells. You can cast any spells in fact. You won’t get in trouble for doing so.”

Draco had not been expecting that. Holy Shit. Just because he had-- what? Killed a man? Gotten rid of all the Death Eaters? He could now be a more normal wizard? It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, but Draco was ever so grateful. He felt like he could hug McGonagall and whatever Ministry workers had made this possible. He felt less like a war criminal than he had a minute ago.

Clearing his throat, Draco said with astonishment clear in his tone, “Thank you, Headmistress. Thank you so much.”

McGonagall’s hard exterior softened. “You’re welcome, Draco.” She pulled out her wand from inside her robes sleeve. “You have grown a considerable amount since first year. I am very proud of you, young man.”

 _Could this day get any more weirder?_ But, he was beyond appreciative. 

“If you would hold out your own wand, Mr. Malfoy. I need it to undo the spell,” McGonagall said, leaning forward in her seat to be able to reach Draco’s wand.

It was done in a couple of seconds, and Draco already felt lighter. His wand didn’t have a lock on it that prevented him from performing certain spells anymore. It felt amazing.

After a bit of light talking regarding what she had seen in the Pensieve, Draco stood to leave, but wasn’t actually planning on leaving quite yet. 

Before he could get a word in, though, McGonagall spoke. “Draco, please realize that I am always here to talk. And if anyone bothers you, whether that be a student or a professor, please come to me immediately.”

Draco smiled at her while clutching his bag. “I can do that.”

McGonagall smiled back. “You are more than welcome here at Hogwarts.” 

His heart clenched at her words, and he could sense that his eyes were starting to get watery. He still needed to say something to her, though. Something that was going to take every ounce of courage in his body to say. 

He took a deep breath. “Headmistress. I need to say something to you. Something I should’ve said a long time ago. And, that is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a terrible student in my youth, and causing so much trouble and being so bloody prejudiced. I’m sorry that I didn’t fight on your side during the battle. I’m sorry, and I know it means nothing, but I truly am.” 

His cheeks were hot and his breathing was ragged by the end. He thought he would combust from embarrassment or whatever right then and there. Half of himself was yelling at him, screaming at him, saying _why would you do that?_ But the other half felt relieved and was rejoicing.

McGonagall was speechless, her eyes watery and a small, genuine smile still plastered on her face. She got up from her seat and walked over to Draco; he was a little bit taller than her, he realized. 

She brought both hands up and squeezed his shoulders endearingly. “Thank you, Draco. Apology accepted.”

Right before he left the room, Draco glanced back towards McGonagall’s desk and saw Dumbledore and Snape watching him leave. Snape gave one nod towards Draco, to which Draco smiled at. Dumbledore gave a small wave, his eyes gleaming behind his half moon spectacles. Draco waved back.

\---

“You wanted to talk to me, mother?” Draco said as he exited the entrance to the Headmistress’s office. He went to stand next to Narcissa who had been patiently waiting next to the gargoyle. 

“I just wanted to give a proper goodbye, before the Aurors come and snatch me up,” Narcissa responded lightly, putting one arm around his shoulders. 

There was no one walking by at the moment, but Draco still felt embarrassed by his mother’s embracing nature--which accumulated sometime in the past week. Although, if a student did pass by, he didn’t think he’d mind so much.

“I won’t see you again until the spring holidays,” she said. “That is, unless some unexpected event pops up that involves you.” She looked at him pointedly, but it was obvious she was joking. Sort of. 

“Hopefully nothing of the sort happens again.”

Narcissa chuckled and pulled Draco in for a tight hug. He was glad that the Curse had miraculously brought them closer together. He was glad that they got to spend so much time together in the Hospital Wing, even if a lot of the time was spent by Draco grieving and moping.

He was upset thinking about how one of the main reasons they were now closer than ever was because Lucius had died. Narcissa also spent a lot of time thinking Draco might die, too. The suffering his mother went through was terrible, and he wished he could do something to fix it. Take away her pain for good.

Although, what Draco was planning on telling her might just add salt to the wound.

As the two of them pulled apart, Draco spoke. “Mother, there’s something I wanted to tell you.”

“Yes, of course. Anything, my dear.” Her smile was beautiful. He hoped she kept her smile in a minute.

What Draco had said to McGonagall had lit a flame inside of him, and he wasn’t ready to let it burn out before his mother left the castle. He knew he had to tell it to her now, or else he never would.

Draco looked Narcissa in the eye and steadied his feet, hoping he wasn’t coming off extremely anxious. “I’m gay,” he finally blurted out.

It was like Déjà vu. His mother’s warm arms wrapped around him, her grip strong and firm, but the gesture full of so much emotion. This exact hug had been repeated so many times today and throughout the past week; but it never got old. The only difference this time was that the hug was filled with indescribable, pure happiness--no ounce of sadness or grief to be found.

“Thank you for telling me,” his mother whispered. “I love you.”

And that was that.

\---

Draco had thought the stares the students had given him in the hallways were bad. It was nothing compared to what the students in the Slytherin common room were like.

He swore that every last one of them, about fifteen or so students from various years, wore slightly gaping mouths and couldn’t take their eyes off of him for one second.

Walking deeper into the common room, Draco held his wand tighter and tried his hardest not to stare directly into anyone’s eyes. He knew, based on what Pansy had told him, that the whole school knew he and Harry had been involved someway with the Sleeping Curse. He had to wonder what exact rumors were spread, though. And how _much_ anyone knew, whether it be false or correct information.

There were students who had parents who worked in the Ministry, of course. And everyone knew that Ministry workers, especially Aurors, couldn’t keep their bloody mouths shut. All it took was for one Auror who had looked into Draco’s Pensieve to tell one other person, and the chain reaction began. 

Although, he supposed there had been articles on all the Death Eater deaths, along with the imprisonment of Alec Kaspian. It must be common knowledge that Draco was now the only living Death Eater; that, of all other things, might inspire questions amongst people. Alec was also a close friend of Harry, which was suspicious, too. 

He was surprised an article in the _Prophet_ hadn’t come out yet specifically about him and his Pensieve memory. But, that consequently meant it would come out soon. That article would probably determine if he was looked at in the public’s eye as even more of a criminal, or a hero. 

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“Draco,” someone whispered. He knew it to be Pansy right away.

He stopped his trudge towards the stairs that led to the boy’s dormitory and looked up and around the common room, trying to spot her and trying to seem inconspicuous at the same time. He found her standing at the back of the room behind a large mountain of books--which made the top of her head only visible--waving her hand like a crazy person and not being quiet enough while ‘whispering’ his name. 

Draco grimaced and turned his direction towards Pansy. When he reached her, she sent a vicious glare to all the eyes turnt their way. That scared the Slytherins away, thank Merlin.

He cast a quick _Muffliato_ charm around them.

“Yes, Pansy?” he said without trying to keep out the irritation in his voice. 

Pansy rolled her eyes in return and whacked him in the elbow with a book. She playfully hit him quite a lot, he realized. 

“What the fuck!” Draco hissed while rubbing the now sore spot.

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go to the library instead of hang around here,” Pansy said coolly.

“That sounds good, yeah.” He still rubbed his elbow in irritation.

“Great, ‘cause I have a lot of work to do, and I reckon you do too.”

“I just have to drop some things off in my dorm first. Then I’ll meet you back here and we can go.”

“Just beware of Theo and the lot. They came back from dinner not too long ago and went to the dorm.”

Draco scrubbed a hand through his hair in irritation. “Fucking fantastic,” he murmured.

Gathering up any leftover courage, he made his way slowly to his dorm. Once standing outside the door, he could hear the muffled voices of his dormmates, and Draco had to control his breathing for a couple of seconds. He knew Theo would have a shit ton to say, like always. It was also going to be _really_ awkward for Draco, since he’d slipped Theo the “Restorative Potion” in his sleep while not really knowing if it would kill him or not.

He casually stepped into the room, keeping his eyes locked on his destination: his bed and the small area surrounding. Immediately, the voices quieted down and a couple coughs floated through the air. 

Oddly enough, no one seemed to bother him as he bent down over the trunk at the foot of his bed and carefully placed all of his objects Harry had handed to him in there while grabbing some school books. After he was finished, he recast plenty of concealing and locking charms on the trunk to keep anyone else out. 

Once Draco turned around, he immediately caught Theo’s glaring eye on the opposite side of the room, and froze. Calder Robins was standing beside him, too. 

He could vaguely see Blaise and Jorah Davis frozen to watch the spectacle, sitting on Davis’ bed.

“I’ve heard plenty of stories, you know,” Theo remarked, trying to come off nonchalant. “No one seems to know the correct one, though. There’s ‘Oh, did you hear how Malfoy killed Alec’s father?’ and also, ‘Did you know Malfoy intentionally set Hogwarts under a sleeping curse to murder them at their weakest?’”

Draco grit his teeth, and felt for his wand under his robes. Luckily, if he had to, he could hex Theo’s balls off now. 

Theo continued, while Robin’s menacing figure stood slightly behind him. “I can’t even fathom which one of these stories is true. Except, you know, the ones where people are calling you a ‘hero’ and whatever fucked up shit goes along those lines. Those are so obviously not true, I laugh every time I hear someone say it!”

A creaking noise sounded from Davis’ bed, indicating that someone was standing up, and sure enough Blaise was carefully removing himself from Davis’ side.

“But I _know_ you had some evil intention, Draco. I know you better than you know yourself.” Theo was walking closer to him, but Draco stood his ground, bringing his wand up higher. “I don’t know exactly what you were aiming at, especially with bringing Potter along for the ride, but let me tell you something--”

Theo never got to tell Draco what that ‘something’ was.

Blaise punched Theo smack in the side of the head, his fist made of iron and his expression void of any emotion except for pure anger. 

Theo toppled over instantly, falling to ground and clutching the side of his head like his life depended on it. Tears were falling silently down his cheeks and the boy looked to be in serious pain. Although, from what Draco could see, there was no hint of blood. 

Everyone else was standing in the room, too shocked to do anything. Even Blaise looked surprised at his action.

Eventually, Robins rushed over to Theo and helped his friend into a sitting position, while the rest of them were still trying to process everything. 

Blaise wiped away the hint of blood that dotted his hands and glared down at Theo.

Draco shook his head slightly, clearing away the shock, and stuffed his wand back into his robes. He knew he should have probably done something to help Theo, but he didn’t seem to be near the brink of death, or even have a concussion. Plus, the twat fucking deserved it.

Draco spoke up for the first time since entering, directing his eyes at Theo. “Don’t speak to me again,” he said, his voice monotone. Theo didn’t respond, but Draco assumed he got the message. He wanted to bring up something about how Theo and his group quite literally assaulted him after therapy group weeks ago--mostly to see how angry Blaise could get--but he decided against it. Besides, he could bring it up another time when he wanted Blaise to punch Theo. (Which happened a lot.)

He turned around to ensure that his trunk was locked, and caught a glimpse of his bedside table, where he kept his cufflinks. 

Instinctually, he felt for the rim of his sleeve under his Slytherin robes, and inwardly winced at the fact that _this whole time today my sleeve wasn’t secure._ Anyone could have seen his battered, destroyed Dark Mark (that, despite all the scars, was still visible). He still had on the bandage wrap that Pomfrey had given him, but his mind supplied to him the worst possibilities: _What if the bandage rips? What if it magically falls off? What if..._

His body was almost pleading him to fucking hide his worst mistake, and oh how he wanted to give into that pull.

After he realized he’d been awkwardly eyeing his side table, he snapped out of the trance and sighed.

Slowly but surely, he started to distance himself from his area of the room and make his way back to the door. Luckily, Robins was still helping Theo while Blaise and Davis were whispering and laughing to each other.

Draco told himself that he hadn’t given into the urge to _make sure_ his sleeve wouldn’t ride up because there were others in the room. Which was partly true. But, he knew, deep down, that he didn’t need to wear cufflinks, that he’d be perfectly fine without them, especially with the bandage wrap. And if he could resist the Pull of a dark wizard’s powerful magic, he could do this.

It wasn’t like he was brave enough to wear a short sleeved shirt under his robes, though. _Baby steps,_ he told himself. And for now, he was fine with that little progress he’d made. 

Before he left the room, Draco made sure to discreetly catch Blaise’s attention and give him a small smile and nod, to which Blaise gave a wry grin in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter wasn't too boring, this was originally going to be the last chapter before the epilogue but that definitely didn't happen. I know everyone is going to love the next chapter though; you guys will be happy. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or comment if you'd like, it really motivates me to keep on writing!
> 
> Much love <3 <3


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